


Encounters

by Shayz



Series: Soul Bonds [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Stargate Atlantis Setting, Ancient Device Made Them Do It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atlantis, Atlantis Team, Between-The-Scenes Action, Daily life on Atlantis, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode(s) References, Exploring Atlantis, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Female Friendship, Fun, Gen, Ice Skating, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Music, Musical References, Off-Screen Happenings, Off-screen Relationship(s), Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SG-1 References, Season/Series 02, Snow and Ice, Surprises, Team Bonding, Television, Television Watching, Water Balloon Fights, television references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 63,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shayz/pseuds/Shayz
Summary: Ronon Dex is new to Atlantis, meets a member of the Earth team and hates her immediately... it must be love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entire life writing/reading have always played in my mind like movies. Therefore, it only follows that they should have soundtracks to go with them. I've included all the songs that I believe enhance the character of Jax and her relationship to Ronon. You can listen or choose to bypass the music, the choice is yours. I do hope you give my "Director's Cuts" of this series a shot either way. Hope you enjoy!  
> =================================================  
> If the embedded music player doesn't work for you, I'll include links where the player is supposed to be (just below it if visible) Right-click on the song title-musician to open a new tab. You can then listen to music as you continue reading.  
> =================================================

**_STARRING:_ **

Ronon Dex, John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, Elizabeth Weir, Rodney McKay,

Dr. Carson Beckett, Col. Steven Caldwell

 ** _INTRODUCING_** :

Maggie “Jax” Jackson

**_Special appearances by:_ **

Dr. Zelenka, Lt. Laura Cadman, Dr. Kate Heightmeyer

 

 

**~ FRUSTRATE ~ **

     “Stop being a pain! Suck it up! Get your ass back over here, sit down, shut up and take off your shirt.”

     Ronon Dex slides a look over his right shoulder, sending the small, annoying female his best death-stare. Her impudent right eyebrow raises and bottomless brown-black eyes match his glare-for-glare. She does not blink. She barely breathes. She waits.

     Refusing to back down.

     Tiny compared to him, at least two heads shorter; her slim yet buxom body not built for fighting; he could break her into small pieces, twist her long neck in a split second, crush her with one blow… yet she refuses to back down.

_Is this typical of Earth women?_

     Living in Atlantis—The City of Ancestors—two weeks now, Ronon has met a handful of Earth’s female soldiers and scientists. They do not react to him in this manner.

     His story well known: for the past seven years he survived as a Runner with a Wraith tracking device embedded deep in the tissue of his back, so near the spine, the Atlantis’s chief surgeon, Dr. Carson Beckett was reluctant to remove it while Ronon remained awake. Despite the implant, he stayed one step ahead of the Wraith on his trail.

     Lt. Colonel John Sheppard and his team willfully helped him while they looked for a missing friend. But having never met anyone from Atlantis, Ronon was not the most cooperative patient—holding Teyla Emmagan by gunpoint and threatening to kill her—though, in the end, they all came to an understanding.

     Now the stitches need removing and Ronon will be free of the Wraith—aside from the occasional killing spree he endeavors to take—and his past as a Runner.

     He came to the infirmary expecting to find the little doctor with the strange way of speaking but found this… this warring _Onihr'dlo_ instead. Though far more attractive than the large-snouted, spiky-spine beast that spits and wails while charging prey, the Earth woman is less amenable.

     When Ronon grunted his disapproval about not finding Beckett and turned to leave, she cursed then howled at him.

     Standing six-foot-five in Earth measurements, Ronon towers over most people. His height, speed, and muscle tend to intimidate folks without him saying a word.

     Until today.

     Somehow, she knows what tone of voice raises the roots of his long hair, surging guilt through him for not complying in an instant. And _that_ boils his blood.

     Placing hands on hips, raising her arched brow higher, and pursing her plump lips, she slides her lower jaw to the side in a show of annoyance.

_Fine!_

     Stomping back, Ronon tears off his shirt and plops onto the gurney—the metal hinges squeak in protest—keeping his back to the haranguing female. Expecting harsh tugs on his injured skin, her feather-fingered touch shocks him; tickling his healing body. Only the snip-snip of scissors tells him she is working.

     “Done,” she hisses. “Now get out.”

      _Interesting_.

     Grabbing his shirt and shaking her out of his head, Ronon clomps to the door where his guard awaits. With a last glance at the woman—cleaning up bright blue threads and stripping off surgical gloves—the strange, yet familiar feeling she stirred in him returns, stinging his heart.

     Heading out the sliding doors, he growls to his ever-present shadow soldier. “Who is that woman?”

     “Jax,” the shadow huffs.

     “I would enjoy shooting her.”

     “Get in line.”

     Ronon darts his eyes to the other man. The soldier’s expression remains steadfast. Ronon nods in understanding: _I am not alone in the suffering of this…Jax_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems no matter what I try, the iframe embedding refuses to work. But the music links are good.

**~ BEHOLD ~**

           Distinctive beats rattle the closed East Pier gym door.

[Alive by Superchick](https://drive.google.com/file/d/11tKhPp_JMTDZWJKo4A38_q_GooVhdwKW/view?usp=sharing)

_This must be Earth music._

           Ronon cannot understand the words through the closed door but his muscles tense and relax to the pulse. His blood pumps faster to match the rhythm.

           He likes it.

           Sheppard’s hand hovers over the door’s control panel, hesitating. He checks the time-piece on his wrist then turns to Ronon and the five other soldiers with an amused twitch of his lips. “Guess we’re early.” The Colonel always seems on the verge of smiling or laughing, yet something holds him back; a seed of darkness lurking beneath the surface, possibly due to the loss of his friend, Lt. Ford.

           Heavy exhales and grumbles from the other men make Sheppard narrow his eyes at them, then he arches his dark brow and his eyes crinkle at the edges, an expression Ronon considers wicked. “Anyone wanna watch?” Unsure of what lies beyond the door besides the Earth music, Ronon looks to the other men who thrust out their chests in anticipation. Sheppard passes his palm over the controls and—as with all Ancestor technology—the door slides open to his will. The soldiers push toward the threshold, though no one steps beyond the physical barrier imposed by the Colonel. Ronon stands at the back, easily seeing above their heads.

           Without the solid walls of Atlantis to halt the flow, the music rushes over them in a thunderous wave.

           Heat and sweat of human exertion emanate from within; Ronon counts ten women in staggered formation facing floor to ceiling mirrors at the far end of the wide room. Dressed in similar attire: thigh length utilities (or ‘shorts’ as Sheppard has schooled him); work-dampened T-shirts and various colored socks on their feet, they all face away from the open door, leaving Ronon and his merry companions great views of the many female posteriors.

_Living in the city of the Ancestors is far from a hardship._

           Some women have the short hair he recognizes as Earth military regulation, those with long hair have it pulled back into what Teyla calls a ‘ponytail’, he has no idea where the term originates. An eleventh woman stands before them near the mirrors—curly dark hair piled onto her head, sweat-dampened tendrils loose along her neck—demonstrating some interesting moves; clearly not fighting skills.

           “Okay ladies,” the leader calls in a husky voice. “Put it together. Five, six, seven, eight,” she waves her hand in the air and the music swells, seeming to come from every corner of the room. Previously, Ronon only caught Sheppard having such innate control of The City of the Ancestors.

           He cannot see individual faces in the mirrors and does not recognize any single woman from behind. They move in unison and time to the rhythm. Seeing so many females swaying in a wanton fashion to a musical beat jars Ronon; his heart pounds and his mouth dries out. He has never witnessed such beauty in motion.

           The leader calls-out instructions as she glides over the floor; obviously the ten other women are learning something new; some of their movements awkward and stilted; whereas, the leader has impeccable control of her body’s every action. While Teyla is powerful and expert in her Bantos and fighting skills, this woman floats, emitting a graceful air Teyla might even envy. Of course, Teyla could destroy this woman as these are not survival skills she teaches. _Though_ , Ronon grunts to himself, given the trance-inducing nature this troupe has over the male soldiers, Ronon suspects this could be a valuable distractionary tool in a fight.

           “And… shake shh..shake it…” the leader yells as her hips move independently of her body. Quick, effortless thrusts forward and back, side to side in time with the music.

_Unbelievable!_

           “Shake shh..shake it. And pop to the left.” The other women follow, resulting in a collective intake of breath from the soldiers as all the women suddenly jerk their buttocks to the left. “And pop,” now to the right. Ronon’s gut tightens and he presses forward into the men to get a better look.

_Definitely distracting!_

           Sheppard leans against the door frame keeping the men outside, his arms crossed and that almost-smile in place.

           “And… step…” she calls out. “Now… shimmy,” As a unit the women shake their shoulders in quick succession making the men around him suck in air. A slide to the right and a loud collective overhead clap ends the session in time to the music.

           The leader turns on the tips of her toes. “Enjoy the show, gentlemen?” She asks, raising her right brow.

           Ronon groans inwardly. Four days since the infirmary visit and this woman still unnerves him. Unlike the _Onihr'dlo_ beast indigenous to Erovinrac—a hostile planet where Sateda’s best warriors trained for the title of Specialist—this woman’s presence is too frequent for him.

           The other women gasp, realizing they have an audience, but as Sheppard and the men clap and whistle upon entering the gym, the women smile and bow, some giggling. Two of the long-haired females rush over to two of the male soldiers. “Did you really like it?” Both soldiers only have eyes for the individual women and Ronon understands they are ‘dating’.

           Ronon takes up Sheppard’s spot at the door, arms crossed and his death-glare ready for the evil that is Jax. Not that she looks his way. She grabs a towel, draping it around her neck and picks up a water bottle. “That’s a wrap, ladies. Great job. We'll put the whole thing together next time. The entire dance.” She squirts water into her mouth. The women clap and howl, thanking her for working them hard. A couple of them shuffle over to hug her. She receives them stiffly.

           “Nicely done, ladies,” Sheppard nods, a twinkle in his eyes and that smirk in place. “You should consider a show for The City.” He stands with hands on hips; his expression serious yet his eyes still shine with humor. “You know… to elevate morale.”

           A female soldier chuckles, pushing a hand through her damp, short red hair: Maddog, a Marine Specialist on Major Lorne’s team, Ronon remembers. “Is that the only thing you’re interested in elevating, Colonel?”

           Laughter bounces off the walls. Sheppard shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the floor. Ronon catches sight of color highlighting his cheeks.  

           “Stepped right into that one, sir,” Stackhouse says. Sheppard huffs and nods.

           “That could be fun though, eh Jax?” Maddog asks.

           Everyone looks to the leader with expectation. Sheppard raises his brows. “So?”

           Cheeks flushing dark, Jax refuses to meet the Colonel’s eyes for more than a split second. “Maybe,” she mutters; her own gaze on the floor as though she might find a trap-door to jump through. Turning her back to the room, Jax hurries toward a second exit hidden behind the mirrors. “See Y'all next week.” She waves goodbye without a backward glance and disappears through the sliding door.

           Two of the women grab their towels and leave through the door held open by Ronon, he hears them whispering. “She’s so shy around them.”

           “Around _him_ , you mean.” The second woman nods toward Sheppard.

           “Kinda odd, considering her previous career choice.”

           Another woman catches up. She too keeps her voice low, but Ronon has great hearing. “I still can’t believe _she_ was a stripper.”

           “She’s got the bod for it,” the first one adds.

           “But not the attitude,” the second woman says.

           “Maybe she’s a great actress.” The last one shrugs and the other two nod in agreement.

           As the rest of the women file out, the male soldiers set up the room for Ronon’s test by pulling out a large, thick mat. Ronon goes over to Sheppard who is leaning against a half-bodied fake man. “What is ‘actress’?” Sheppard is Ronon’s ‘go-to guy’ for most things Earth-related.

           “Remember the movie I showed you?”

           “Galaxy something…”

           “ _Galaxy Quest_. The actors were the ones mistaken for being real space travelers.”

           “Oh… and what is ‘stripper’?”

           Sheppard narrows his eyes at Ronon and tilts his head. After a moment he says: “It’s a job, like any other on Earth.” He raises that dark brow again; a little suspicious about this question. “Why?”

           Ronon shakes his head. “No reason.” Sometimes Sheppard can be rather obtuse with his answers. Ronon will have to get a better one elsewhere; perhaps his shadow.

           “Hmm,” Sheppard says then claps his hands together. “Let’s get started.”


	3. Chapter 3

** ~ ADVOCATE ~ **

          Ronon shovels food into his mouth, getting re-used to eating with utensils and not his hands.

          “That went well,” Sheppard says with his usual smirk in place as he joins the table.

          “What?” Ronon asks.

          “Dr. Weir says I can keep you.”

          “Keep me?”

          Sheppard’s smirk falters. “That you can join my team. If you want.”

          “Sounds good. For now.”

          “Looks like you’re gonna be here a while.” Sheppard drums his hands on the table. “Mind if I get some grub and join you?”

          “Fine.”

          Nodding, Sheppard heads to the other end of the ‘mess’. Ronon grunts: Sheppard’s Earth language is quite like Sateda. He is finding it easy to learn. McKay mentioned something about both languages being derivatives of some long-ago Earth dialect started by the Ancestors. Those who speak English (or American as McKay calls it) would have been comfortable on Sateda had the Wraith not destroyed it.

          Rattling dishes make Ronon glance up, catching the Colonel taking up the last place in the food line. Unlike military leaders on Sateda, he does not use his position of power to take advantage of even the lowliest people—Ronon snorts at that thought: Jax is directly in front of Sheppard.

_Why is he so disturbed?_

        As with Teyla, the fact that she stood up to him with defiance should make her worthy of attention. Yet… Jax? She felt like a pebble in his boot. If he met her on some other world, he would push her aside... at least, he believes he would.

          He obeyed her command. Not to please her. He is sure of that much. She instilled in him a need to cooperate. It was as if he had no will of his own to rebel. He remembers that feeling from long ago and a guilty pang stings his heart.

          Perhaps that is why he finds her annoying: She stirs feelings he believed long buried and forgotten.

          Jax half-smiles at Sheppard, reacting to something he said, but her shifty eyes betray an underlying nervousness. She abruptly turns her attention to the roasted _Yekrut_ , a delicacy Major Lorne’s team, AT-2, managed to trade Earth potatoes and the ability to grow them in the future with the settlement on M2S-135. 

          Undaunted, Sheppard continues with his side of the conversation, in return he receives a few head bobs and furtive sideways glances from Jax. Sheppard says something and her cheeks flame like an uncomfortable child; Ronon’s gut clenches into a knot.

          _There it is._

          Jax retorts and Sheppard laughs out loud, stunning everyone in the mess into a moment of silence. Eyes turn their way, though neither notices. Sheppard’s hand lands on her shoulder and she flinches. The gut-knot tightens and Ronon readies to jump out of his chair and pull Sheppard away but, in an instant, the Colonel’s hand is gone and Ronon’s stomach relaxes.

_What was that?!_

          Sheppard trails Jax as they leave the food service counter, worry lines crease his brow as he tries to keep the conversation going over the renewed din of voices and clanking dishes. Considering how quickly he pulled away from her, Sheppard did not miss her odd reaction any more than Ronon did. Jax glances over her shoulder at the Colonel, her smile wavering and says something Ronon cannot hear. Sheppard grins and nods, though his eyes convey confusion and concern. Jax hurries away with her food, passing Ronon without acknowledgment.

          Sheppard sets his tray on the table with a quizzical look at the departing Jax then sits and stabs at the meat with a fork.

          “What happened over there?” Ronon asks, trying to sound unconcerned.

_Which he is!_

          He has no concern for Jax.

_None! If anything, it was a long-dormant reaction stemming from remembered pain._

          The sudden surge of protectiveness was fleeting at best.

_It never happened!_

          “You mean Maggie?” Sheppard asks.

          “Thought her name is Jax.”

          “Yeah. When I met her, it was Maggie Jackson… no relation.”

          “To who?”

          “Dr. Jacks… never mind.” Sheppard shakes his head. “Don’t call her Maggie though,” he says sincerely.

          “You did.”

          “Not to her face. Don’t know if it was the first or the last name that bugged her more, but she changed it shortly after we arrived here.”

          “What is wrong with her?”

          “Nothing I can see,” Sheppard says, sipping his drink; the twinkle in his eyes something Ronon has only seen when the Colonel speaks to or about Dr. Weir.

          Ronon knows something is strange about that woman. Sheppard must read Ronon’s look because he quickly adds: “She’s over-stressed, I’m sure.”

          “Why? I have yet to see her go off-world on a mission.”

          Sheppard leans in. “Everyone here is stressed, Ronon. And everyone here works their ass off. Don’t go assuming that the people who aren’t scientists or in the military don’t have enough work of their own to keep this place running.”

          “But…” Ronon talks around a mouthful of meatloaf. “What does she _do_ around here?”

          “Besides bunch your shorts, you mean?”

          Ronon snorts, understanding his meaning. “Yes.”

          Sheppard swallows a couple bites; then: “She’s a floater.” Ronon does not understand and Sheppard must see it. “She probably has a hundred different jobs any given week,” he explains. “Mostly grunt work, which is probably why she’s so stressed.”

          “Grunt work?”

          “Mopping floors, doing laundry, cleaning dishes, taking care of trash. After the Genii attack, she was on one of the teams cleaning up my mess.”

          Ronon raises his brows.

          “Bodies,” Sheppard says flatly, without pride in a successful mission protecting his home as well as McKay and Dr. Weir.

          Teyla told Ronon about the failed Genii siege of the city during a violent storm. The Colonel engaged the Ring of—no—the _Stargate’s_ shield, blocking (and thus killing) approximately 60 incoming enemy soldiers. Sheppard may be affable by nature but he is a soldier, a deadly one. It is his work, but he does not take pleasure in the kill. Something the two of them have in common… unless it is a Wraith on the receiving end of their weapons.

           “We lost a few medical people during the Wraith attack that followed,” he frowns. “So, Beckett trained her for little stuff in the infirmary: removing stitches, giving shots, taking blood. On Earth, she would have needed years of training and a degree, but according to Beckett, she’s a natural at anything he gives her to do. He only had to show her a procedure one time for her to pick it up like a pro. She’s also the aerobics instructor… as you’ve seen,” Sheppard grins and that twinkle returns to his eyes. “And again, _very_ good at it.”

          Ronon ignores the memory of Jax as some anonymous exercise leader. He had been drawn to her… “Anything else?”

          “Why so interested, Ronon?”

          “Just making conversation. Like to know my–”

          “Enemies?” Sheppard interrupts, smirking again. “What did she _do_ to you _,_ anyway?”

          “Nothing.” Which is accurate. She did not ‘do’ anything, except annoy him on a deep, familiar level he refuses to think about.

          “Has to be something. I’ve seen that glare before, you know. Had your gun in front of it.”

          Ronon stares at him.

          “Fine. Be that way,” Sheppard shrugs then continues on. “Sometimes she types meeting notes for Elizabeth. I’ve heard she’s also a masseuse and a hairdresser. She cut Teyla’s hair; think she did a nice job.” Sheppard looks him over. “You could probably use her skills in that department.” Ronon glares at him and Sheppard rethinks the tangent. “Mostly, she’s McKay’s lab rat.”

          “McKay’s?”

          “Yep. She’s got the ATA gene and is more adept than I am. Sometimes I think The City likes her best of all,” he makes a face, possibly jealous of that last part.

          Sheppard and McKay both explained the usefulness of the Ancient gene. The rarity of someone having a natural talent to use it is a big issue among the Lanteans.

          “Plus, she’s got like a wicked two-hundred-something IQ,” Sheppard says with another shrug of his shoulders, obviously trying to downplay his intense interest in the attractive young woman. “Not that she’s allowed to use it around here.” Off another of Ronon’s looks, Sheppard says, “She’s way smarter than you, me and McKay put together. Not that McKay would ever admit such a thing. But it is why Dr. Weir wanted her on the team.”

          “So, she is a doctor?”

          “Uh… no. I’m sure she could be, but from what I understand, her brother is in the military back on Earth. Special Ops.”

          “A Specialist?”

          “Yeah. He was on leave when Dr. Weir, General O’Neill, and McKay went to do the prelim interview for the expedition team. McKay was there to subtly hand over something ATA activated.”

          Ronon chuckles. “McKay? Subtle?”

          “Yeah, that gets me too. Anyway, Jax showed up for an unscheduled visit, surprising everyone… and caught McKay’s eye, as Elizabeth tells it.”

          “Figures.”

          “McKay got all jumbled trying to talk to her while keeping her out of the apartment since she didn’t have security clearance. He was holding the device in his hand and she pretty much grabbed it and it activated.”

          “What about the brother?”

          “He recently got engaged and wasn’t interested in signing his life away for a seemingly one-way mission. And he didn’t have the gene, so the General didn’t push it.”

          “So, you chose her instead?”

          “It’s more complicated than that. Just because she has the gene didn’t make her an automatic candidate. She had other qualifications.”

          “Being a stripper?” Ronan asks. His shadow had been eager to tell him about female strippers on Earth. Turns out quite of few of them do other things for more money. Ronon has seen such women on other planets; though none of them could move like Jax and most were not as attractive. She must have made a decent living on Earth. Might be why he dislikes her so much. A female willing to sell herself in trade… he could never respect such a woman.

          Sheppard’s brows rise and his mouth sets in a firm line. “I don’t like rumors, Ronon. She’s a nice person and doesn’t deserve it.”

          “Why so protective, Sheppard?”

          _Why, indeed?_

          He digs his fork into his food and grumbles. “I don’t like it when people are pre-judged and treated unfairly.” The flash of anger in Sheppard’s eyes implies he has been on the receiving end of similar treatment. His voice low, Sheppard adds: “She passed her background check. They found her over-qualified for any number of positions, only no actual college degree in any field. That’s why she isn’t a doctor. Elizabeth liked her spunk and pulled some strings to get her on the team as a floater. Besides, it’s always good to have a masseuse around.”

          “She is not the most sociable person.”

          Sheppard tilts his head and raises both brows. “Look who’s talking.”


	4. Chapter 4

** ~ WOUND ~ **

          Barely escaping a Wraith Cruiser’s fireball, Ronon dives through the Stargate.  He shoots out of the wormhole, hits Atlantis’s Gateroom floor hard on his right shoulder then rolls to his feet in one fluid movement.

          The last of AT-1 returning, the gate shuts off behind him; leaving Oleesia to suffer a long overdue culling of the planet’s more affluent citizens and politicians.

_Especially the politicians!_

          Sheppard and Teyla are up, nodding to each other and checking on the stunned Eldon: the strange little man managed to impress McKay with his science skills and Sheppard permitted him sanctuary in return for freeing the team from murder-happy Turrell’s clutches. McKay sits on the floor with legs splayed apart; looking around wide-eyed, probably wondering if he is really home.

          Not the “cake-walk, first-contact, meet-and-greet mission” Sheppard expected; more violent and death-dealing. Upon first landing on the island holding the Stargate, the inhabitants attacked them; skewering Ronon’s leg with a hand-made arrow and keeping the team pinned down with explosives.

          After several minutes, a flight-worthy military vessel, twice as large as the Puddle Jumper and more heavily armored, came to their rescue. Ronon traveled to many planets in his seven years as a Runner; until now, only Atlantis managed to stay ahead of the Wraith.

          They escaped into the PJ and followed the ship to the city an ocean away. They learned the island consisted of the ‘most dangerous criminals’ from Oleesia left there to appease the Wraith.

          Sheppard made arrangements for Dr. Weir to begin alliance talks with the Chancellor who McKay found ‘creepy’.

          The return trip to the Stargate, however, did not go as planned. Those minor explosives used earlier took flight and knocked the PJ off trajectory; they lost weapons and power. The crash-landing did not injure anyone too badly, but having their weapons confiscated and being taken hostage by in-severe-need-of-a-wash criminals irked Ronon. The beatings and constant death threats did not help his attitude either.

          Still, aside from Turrell and his troupe, the truly evil people actually lived in the city. The politicians could give lessons on cruelty and obfuscation; Ronon’s task-master Kel would have been impressed.

          Wanting to stay technologically advanced compared to most of the planets in the Pegasus Galaxy, Oleesia’s hierarchy condemned those they deemed criminals—regardless of the crime committed (if not invented outright)—to the island prison. So, not _only_ the ‘most dangerous criminals’ as they had been told. With no dialing device attached and no escape, these poor souls were culled by the Wraith leaving the rich and powerful untouched.

          Due to civil war breaking Wraith alliances and the fact that the Wraith awoke from hibernation at least 50 years too soon, there is not enough food to share. Apparently, the people of the Pegasus Galaxy have not procreated fast enough to keep their Wraith enemy satisfied.

          As Sheppard often says, Ronon ‘could not give a shit’ about Wraith satisfaction. After being tied up and threatened with death for the better part of a day, the team liberated the island to save their own lives; releasing a number of actual criminals—Turell for one—to reap havoc onto the unsuspecting galaxy.

          Someday, Ronon will find that man and make it right. No Wraith culling for Turell. He will get the burning end of Ronon’s gun blast.

          For now, putting minimal weight on his right leg—still stinging from the arrow he pulled out of it several hours ago—Ronon gives McKay a hand up.

          “I’m good,” the usually ornery and complaining McKay says in a hushed voice.

          Dr. Beckett and his staff wait with four gurneys. Sheppard’s ushered onto one against his wishes. Teyla declines, offering it to Eldon instead; in turn, she and Ronon help a wobbly McKay onto another. “I do believe you are truly injured, Rodney,” Teyla tells him.

          McKay looks at her, eyes wide. “I am?” He flops down onto the mattress and groans in pain. “Okay.”

          Teyla looks to Beckett. “He hit his head on the floor when he came through. Then Colonel Sheppard accidentally kicked him in the side on his arrival.”

          “He tried to kill me again!” McKay growls, sitting up.

          Teyla gently but firmly presses his shoulder down so that McKay lays flat on his back. “It was an accident, Rodney. You know Col. Sheppard would never intentionally hurt you,” she says softly.

          McKay responds with a lopsided grin: “Friends are supposed to grouse about each other, Teyla. That’s how we know we’re friends.”

          Teyla and Beckett look to each other, then both nod at McKay.

          “Sure, Rodney,” Beckett says. “Why don’t you relax. Let me get you under a scanner.” A young guy wheels McKay toward the infirmary. Eldon follows on his, eyes child-like wide, head twisting left, right and up, trying to get a good look at the beautiful city surrounding him.

          Beckett turns to Ronon. “That’s a bad limp, son.” He pats the last gurney and grins. “Hop on board.”

          “I am fine.”

          “Sure, you say. But I’m the doctor here. I’ll be making that determination on my own.”

          Ronon takes a painful step toward the doctor, towering over the little man, invading his space. “I said I am fine.”

          “For crying out loud, shut up and get your ass on the damn gurney!” Ronon bristles at the sharp voice. He turns, seeing _her_ standing beside the rolling bed, hands on her hips and that look of defiance in her eyes.

_Enjoy pushing buttons?_

          Silence fills the gate room. Ronon wonders if they are waiting for him to whip out his gun and shoot her. He is sorely tempted, but sure she knows it and is purposely goading him into action. He can sense the guards and his team tensing around them.

          Sheppard exhales, exasperated. “Just do it, Ronon. We don’t need bloodshed in the gate room right now.”

          “Is that an order, Sheppard?”

          Sheppard scowls at him the same way he did when they were tied up in the criminal’s camp. Ronon grunts as he sits on the gurney. The movable bed protests against his weight with a squeak. It takes three men to wheel him to the infirmary.

          Jax trails behind, making notes on a computer tablet. Though she tries to hide it by keeping her head down, Ronon would swear she is grinning with satisfaction.

          A short while later, in the infirmary, Beckett assesses Teyla before handing her a couple of white pills and a glass of water. “You’re fine lass. Let me know if your headache gets worse.”

          She takes the medicine. “Thank you. I will.”

          “Go take a nap, Teyla,” Sheppard says. “We'll call you for the debrief.” Teyla nods, giving Sheppard a small smile of gratitude then heads out the doors.

          “She looks wiped,” Sheppard says to Beckett.

          “Aye. But she’s a strong lass. I’m sure a hot shower and a bit of rest will do the trick.” The doctor moves on to McKay. “Do you feel queasy, Rodney?” McKay shakes his head then moans at the motion and both hands fly to his face, covering his eyes. “You have a slight concussion,” Beckett says, his voice full of sympathy for his friend. “So, I’m keeping you here for observation.” The scientist does not even whine, which tells Ronon he is actually hurt. Beckett checks on Sheppard as a nurse carefully removes Ronon’s boot and unwraps the bandage Teyla applied earlier. “You bruised your ribs again, Colonel,” Beckett says.

          “Tell me something I don’t know.”

          “You’re gonna live, how’s that.” Sheppard chuckles but winces in pain. Beckett examines the back of the Colonel’s head. “A couple of nasty gashes here. You got a good walloping didn’t you, son.”

          “As usual.”

          “I keep warning ya about how ya talk to people. Not everyone speaks sarcasm as fluently as you.”

          As the doctor probes his wounds, Sheppard grimaces and says: “Especially psychotic convicts being served up as Wraith food.”

          “At least you won’t be needing stitches, so we won’t be adding to your crappy haircut.” Sheppard rolls his eyes at that comment. For reasons unknown, Sheppard’s rather spiky black hair is a big topic of conversation among the Lanteans; mostly the female half.

          Beckett continues his inspection. “But they do need a good cleaning. He turns and calls out: “Jax?” She appears almost out of nowhere and Ronon cringes. Beckett motions to Sheppard. “The Colonel here has some head lacs that need cleaning. No stitches. Topical anesthetic.”

          Jax nods and then rushes off without a word. When she returns blue gloves cover her hands and she carries a small tray holding giant cotton swabs, one bottle of clear liquid and another with brown.

          “Hi again,” Sheppard grins.

          Her smile is small, fragile. “Hi.”

          Sheppard turns his head toward Ronon so she can work. “Given any more thought to my idea?”

          “Not really, no,” she says with a slight blush in her cheeks.

          “C’mon. It’s a morale booster.”

          Her eyes dart to the ceiling then back down to the task at hand. She takes a deep breath, but when she talks, her voice remains a low whisper. “It’s also a lot of hard work.”

          Sheppard smirks at Ronon. “Something you clearly thrive on.”

          Her cheek color intensifies as she says: “I’m sure I can convince the ladies–”

          “Good.” Sheppard cuts her off.

          “If you join the class,” she finishes.

          Sheppard’s eyes nearly pop out of his head and Ronon has to force down a laugh. The colonel holds up a finger. “Wait–”

          “That’s the deal,” she says with a tiny grin.

          “That is just so… wrong,” Sheppard whines.

          “C’mon, Colonel,” Ronon starts. “I’m sure she can teach you all sorts of interesting moves in private.” The moment it is out of his mouth, Ronon realizes his mistake.

          Her gaze snaps to his, the rich brown color no longer warm but chilling. Deadly so. He looks away. Ronon has heard the saying: ‘If looks could kill’ from Sheppard and McKay on several occasions but only now does he understand it. After a moment, he can feel she is no longer glaring at him and he dares to glance up from under his brows.

          She attends to the Colonel in silence.

          Sheppard scowls at him, mouthing: _What’d you say that for?_ Ronon shrugs and shakes his head. He still feels the chill down to his bones her stare gave him.

          Jax is far different from him, Ronon is sure. But the raw emotion within those eyes… He has seen that look before, too many times to count. There is much more to Jax than he first thought.

          “Dr. Beckett,” the nurse checking Ronon’s leg calls. “It’s clean through the muscle.”

          The doctor comes over, looks at the wound. “You’re lucky lad, especially since I hear you pulled the damn thing out yourself.” Beckett shakes his head. “It could’ve hit a bone or artery.” He sighs.” All right, it’ll take a while to heal.” He turns to the nurse. “Flush it, pack it, wrap him up.” Beckett grins at Ronon. “I’m assuming you won’t mind a local this time?”

          “Local what?”

          “Anesthesia, son. It won’t knock you out but will numb up the wound so she can work.”

          Ronon looks to Sheppard. “Would you?”

          Sheppard opens his eyes; he looks half asleep. “Hell yeah.” Then he closes his eyes again, a content smile turning up his lips.

          Ronon grunts to Beckett. “Fine. Do it.”

          Jax finishes cleaning up Sheppard’s head wounds and moves away, stripping off her gloves. The moment she stops working, the Colonel’s smile fades and he opens his eyes. “Done already?” Jax nods as she takes her tray and disappears, smiling softly but not locking her eyes on Sheppard’s. Once she is out of earshot, Sheppard leans over to Ronon. “She’s got the most relaxing touch.”

          Ronon remembers how swiftly, but feather-light her fingers worked to remove his stitches a couple weeks before. “Too bad the rest of her is so annoying.”

          Sheppard shakes his head as he gets up. “Get over yourself; I saw how you looked at her in the gym. And all those questions… you think she’s hot.”

          “She hurts my rear,” Ronon grumbles.

          Sheppard laughs at him. “You mean she’s a pain in your ass?”

          “Please…” McKay groans from his bed on the other side of Ronon. “You _so_ want to pull her pigtails and punch her in the arm.”

          “What?”

          “He’s saying you like her,” Sheppard says quietly as he picks up his vest. “By the way, you’re one to talk, McKay,” the Colonel adds as he heads out the door.

          The scientist covers his eyes with his arm. “At least I’m willing to admit it to myself. If… not… to anyone else,” he adds sourly.

          A moment later a cool spot hits Ronon’s arm. He looks over in time to see Jax pushing the plunger on a needle. “What was that?”

          “Tetanus.” She walks away.


	5. Chapter 5

** ~ SHADOW ~ **

          Ronon heads down the corridor to the nearest transporter, getting the required daily exercise prescribed by Dr. Beckett—no running allowed—until his wound heals. After a restrictive day of bed rest following the ‘trip to hell,’ as Sheppard called it, Ronon is happy to be on the move. And since joining Sheppard’s team officially, he no longer has a guard shadowing him.

          Dr. Beckett grounded AT-1 for three weeks until satisfied they are fully healed and Sheppard agreed with the doctor—or he had to agree. Something about the medical doctor out-ranking everyone in The City… even Dr. Weir sometimes.

          Sheppard’s time off to recuperate is not a hardship for the man. He is supposed to be doing paperwork but rarely does. Instead, he spends time following Dr. Weir around the base or pestering her in the office. Something he calls: ‘being a good friend’ and she calls: ‘goofing off.’

          Ronon has a different theory. He has caught the smile Sheppard wears whenever Dr. Weir enters a room or her name is mentioned; different than his usual half-grin. Ronon wonders if Sheppard even knows he does it.

          Bored and restless without an off-world mission or fight-training the soldiers—even sparring with Teyla is banned—Ronon started exploring the City of the Ancestors during the past week. Sheppard warned him not to go into unexplored areas without an escort because of the water damage during the big storm the previous year. Also, there is the possibility of releasing some strange infection from an unknown science lab. Of course, if he comes across anyone in a hibernation chamber, radio immediately.

          Ronon listened to Sheppard’s advice and promptly ignored it. He knows not to touch anything in a random lab and how to stay out of structurally damaged places. And the last thing he wants is to find another person on his trips. Even an Ancestor would ruin his mood. Sheppard gave him fair warning then shrugged his shoulders and left him alone. Since then, Ronon has managed to slip away unnoticed and more importantly, undisturbed for many hours at a time.

          He discovered several balconies, long deserted and dusty, overlooking The City and the ocean below. He arrives at his favorite place; having returned three times now, before sunrise, at sunset and now mid-day with the sun still high in the sky. He enjoys different views of the beautiful architecture and the frothing ocean many stories below.

          Getting his exercise on the walks to and from, Ronon spends most of his time sitting in silence, clearing his head of thoughts… away from the noise of too many people. After the lonesome years on the run, he does not know if he will ever get used to being around so many voices again.

          Even though Sateda’s language has many similarities to the prominent Lantean’s English, Ronon still has trouble understanding everything spoken around him. Changing words he has known his entire life—like colors osia to ‘blue’ or ambro to ‘yellow’—tires his mind. Getting away from all those voices for some time helps quiet his thoughts, lets him remember his old life, his old home. Taking a breather, as Sheppard would say.

          The rapid _pop-pop_ of gunfire echoes down the corridor, jarring him to his feet and his hand to the blaster always holstered on his right-side thigh. Stealthily stalking toward the noise, his gun, snug in his grip, takes the lead. More _pop-pop_ s ding off the walls making it easy to follow the sound through the maze of corridors. One could lose themselves within the giant place if intended or not.

          Along with the gunfire, Earth music shakes the city corridor.

[Fighter by Christina Aguilar](https://drive.google.com/file/d/19-gW7lz2wRTjIySy4j4Jc6Y3cbgHF_kj/view?usp=sharing)

_Should have known she would ruin any peace and quiet._

          Shaking his head, Ronon sheaths his gun in its holster; turning down a final hall, the door to the room hosting the music and gunfire stands open, bleeding fira—No—red light into the corridor.

          Seems she is keeping the gunfire in time to the music beat.

          He ducks into the room, leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest and listens to the music words.

          Three paper silhouette targets, mounted twice as far away from the shooter than when Sheppard showed Ronon the Earth weapons, have precision shots to the head and abdomen ‘center mass’. In fact, the holes are on top of each other, shredding the paper as well as his gun would.

          Though not the normal practice range, she wears the required eye protection and has plenty of ammunition to go with the big handgun; very adept and familiar with both. Ronon has never known her to use the other range… or carry a weapon.

          She has a fine stance and a double-handed grip on the 9mm Barretta, similar to one Sheppard showed him. A large gun for such small hands. Poised and with excellent muscle tone in her strong arms, she never tenses when squeezing the trigger, keeping the powerful kick from pushing back her shoulders or lifting the gun into the air after each firing.

          Finishing the current clip, she expels it and slaps in a new one.

          She flips on the gun safety and sets the gun on the table, followed by her goggles. In a growl, without turning, she demands: “What do you want!?”

_How did she know?_

          Ronon would know if someone is watching _him_. He would hear a change, feel it in the air. But with the music so loud, there is no way she heard him over that and the gunfire. “Nothing,” he grunts in return.

          “Then go away.” Still not looking at him, she replaces the targets with three fresh ones.

          Ronon moves over to the table and fingers through a stack of used targets. He holds up one, again finding the center mass so shredded it is impossible to count the shots used, but a single shot in the center of the forehead leaves fourteen bullets to demolish the center mark. “You are good.” He lets the paper rest on the table.

          She puts the last target in place. “I know.” Not a hint of arrogance but maybe a bit of sadness in that statement. She turns back toward the table, walking on the balls of her feet, gliding. When she gets near, he again realizes how small she is compared to him. Tiny. He forgot somehow. Even as she hung up the targets, she seemed taller; more statuesque. She puts on the glasses, grabs the gun and easily slides a round into the chamber. Though she faces the target, she does not take aim. She turns her head slightly over her right shoulder, not enough to look at him directly, but enough for him to clearly hear her words. “I don’t bother you on the balcony.”

          “You followed me!”

          She chuffs. “I was here first. You’re the intruding new arrival.” Now she does look up at him, catching his gaze fully. “Go. Away.”

         Ronon nods once and backs off. She turns back to the target, raising her gun. He should head straight for the door, but something keeps him here. Before she flips off the safety, he is behind her again. “Just one thing: Your stance should be–”

          His hands graze her hips to turn her ever so slightly but she slips through his grasp, twisting, falling forward and away, landing hard enough on her right shoulder to knock the wind out of most women, but she is lying still in an instant, her gun aiming at his face. Her voice low, teeth clenched: “I. _Never_. Said. You-Could-Touch-Me.” Her aim stays wicked steady, backed by deadly heat in her eyes. She will shoot. He has one chance here.

          Ronon is a fast draw, but he never saw this coming. No time to move for his own weapon and not nearly as far away as those targets she managed to put giant holes in. Instinct tells him to take a chance, dive out of the way and take his shot at her. But the look in her eyes: the darkness that seems so familiar, drugs him, seducing him into not looking away. Watching her, Ronon raises his hands in supplication and takes a step back. “Never again.”

          Appeased, a coolness slides over her eyes, closing a door, locking him out of her world. Her pain. Without taking her eyes off him, she flips on the safety—which she must have taken off mid-tumble—smoothly rolls left to her feet. She shoves the weapon into a thigh holster much like Sheppard’s. Whipping off the safety glasses, she tosses them on top of the used targets. “Fine. I’ll go.” With that, she glides out of the room.

          The music shuts off.

          Ronon’s heart thumps in his ears. His stomach tightens as she slips from view. He remembers how easily she aroused his interest while working with the women in the gym. He had been drawn to her as a leader, a strong, powerful woman. Before he recognized her and his dislike returned. 

          But is it dislike? The feelings she stirs… he remembers them. Long buried, but still alive inside him. He could never forget. As he watched her firing on the targets, as she boldly told him to leave, even as she held the gun on him, not once did dislike surface. In fact, something entirely different emerged.

          Teyla earned his respect with her honesty, fighting skills and authority of leadership. But he swore he could never respect this woman. Not after his shadow soldier told him what some strippers did for extra trade goods (money) on Earth.

          Now, however, Ronon knows the truth. The way she handles herself, her grace, and her skills… she _never_ sold her body, not even for people to watch her take off clothes to music. She was not this ‘stripper’ the other women claimed. No. She does not have that openness in her.

          What he saw in her eyes makes his stomach quiver and his heart beat faster.

          She is like him.

          _Jax is a runner_.


	6. Chapter 6

** ~ THEORY ~ **

          AT-1 makes their way through the knee-high grass toward the Stargate with Sheppard taking point. Ronon slows his stride to stroll beside Teyla, and McKay lags behind, finding the hue of the grass far too interesting.

          He keeps repeating: “It’s orange!” Must be an oddity he does not see on Earth. “Not even gold... but orange!”

          For the first time in a long while, they are not running for their lives after a simple meet-and-greet mission. And surprisingly, Ronon feels relieved—not bored—by that notion.

          “It’s as bright as a damn crayon!”

          “Your fascination is noted, McKay,” Sheppard groans. “Find a new topic.”

          McKay frowns at Sheppard. “For your information, Colonel, the color of the grass could indicate different ores found in the soil, or even an unknown element only existing in this galaxy. Or, far more likely, dangerous substances like naturally occurring radioactive isotopes.” McKay looks around wildly then wags a finger in the air. “We need to be carrying Geiger Counters as part of our basic supplies.”

          “And tranquilizers for you,” Sheppard sighs. “Go back to enjoying the grass. And stop trying to anticipate our demise from radiation. Oh, and stop the yelling. We don’t want to scare our new friends.”

          McKay pouts at Sheppard’s back but finally stops talking.

          The Stargate lies approximately one Earth hour and fifteen minutes from the closest village. They are about halfway there, taking their time, enjoying the sunshine and fresh scents of outdoors.

          Teyla grabs handfuls of multi-hued wildflowers, stuffing the stems in the front of her flack vest as to not crush the blooms. She tells Ronon that several of the Athosian women know how to use the petals to make clothing dyes. Teyla is partial to firosi; purple on Sheppard’s world.

          This planet coded P4J-014 by the Lanteans—known as Pascal by those borne to the Pegasus galaxy—is home to several tribal villages within walking distance of each other and the gate. Accepting and eager for trade, each village welcomed them with smiles and familial hugs. The matriarchs were quite happy to marry off any of their of-age off-spring to any member of AT-1, especially Teyla and Sheppard. Ronon had to laugh at Sheppard’s face when Teyla translated the conversation for him. Thankfully, the ever-diplomatic Teyla informed the mothers that each member of AT-1 already had a mate back home. According to Dr. Weir, this is the best way to alleviate any scorned feelings when meeting new civilizations.

          Sometimes it works and sometimes... well, Ronon has had his share of marriages since joining the Lanteans... mostly to Teyla or Sheppard. McKay, once—that was enough! To keep trading relations neutral, they do their best to avoid ceremonies or parties ‘in their honor’ while on missions.

          All the villages specialize in one trade or another.  All are fruitful farmers, but also clay-makers, wood-workers, and basket-weavers. In fact, the ‘orange’ grass is not the most shocking hue available to them. Ronon saw an osia deeper than the Lantean ocean.

          Sheppard made perfunctory arrangements for food with each one. Of course, Dr. Weir will return to conduct actual negotiations; probably her easiest task since coming from Earth.

          Somehow, the conversation turns to Ronon and Jax. Sheppard looks pleased with himself. “So... you like her now, huh?”

          “I do not _dislike_ her.”

          Sheppard’s grin grows. “It’s kinda an either-or thing, Ronon. You either dislike someone or you like them.”

          “That’s not entirely true, Colonel,” McKay says coming up behind them. “It’s quite possible to not have any feelings about someone altogether. Is that how you feel, Ronon? You feel nothing for the lovely Jax, correct?”

          “What if I do, doctor?” Ronon slides McKay a look. “You think you would have a chance?”

          “Oh... I don’t know... maybe.”

          “Who is this discussion about?” Teyla asks.

          “Ronon has a crush on Maggie Jackson... sorry, Jax,” Sheppard grins.

          Teyla’s eyes brighten and she grins. “Really?”

          “No,” Ronon grunts.

          Teyla tilts her head to the side. “She is a very lovely lady, Ronon. You could do worse.”

          “No,” McKay says quickly. “You could do better. You should stay away from her... forever.” Teyla and Sheppard chuckle as Ronon glowers at McKay’s lame attempt to dissuade him. “She’s really not your type, anyway.”

          “Why is that?” Easily intimidated and fun to play with, McKay squirms under Ronon’s steady gaze.

          The fact is, Ronon does not know _how_ he feels about Jax. She intrigues him. He should be attracted to her; she is quite beautiful. But something stops him... and it is not her good aim.

          He never mentioned their time in her private shooting range, considering neither of them was supposed to be in that part of The City. But he wonders about her. He found his dreams filled with her pain and rage darkened eyes that same night.

          McKay’s voice squeaks out: “She’s...”

          “She is what?” Ronon stops walking. “Too smart for me?”

          “Maybe... No, I meant to say... she’s a mystery is all. You really don’t know her life story.”

          “That’s what dating is for, McKay.” Sheppard smiles over his shoulder at them.

          “I know enough,” Ronon huffs. “She is a Runner.”

          “Sure you do... she’s a... _what_?” McKay asks.

          Sheppard stops in his tracks and turns, staring at him with brows raised.

          Teyla cocks her head. “Did you say a Runner?” Ronon nods. “But she is from Earth... is she not, Colonel?”

          “Yeah,” Sheppard’s brows crease over his dark glasses. “And we don’t have Wraith hunting people there... yet.”

          “Does not matter,” Ronon says. “I have seen it.” He looks sharply at Sheppard. “So have you.”

          Teyla’s eyes dart between Ronon and the Colonel. “I do not understand. What could she be running from if not the Wraith?”

          Ronon shrugs and starts walking again. “Anything. Everything. Earth, maybe.”

          “People,” Sheppard says with conviction. He glances at McKay. “How easy was it to convince her to leave Earth?”

          “Very.” McKay’s eyes narrow as he considers something. “This makes sense now.”

          “What does?” Teyla asks.

          McKay waves a finger in the air. “Her history. The unfulfilled potential. Menial jobs, no real friends or family. It’s textbook, as Dr. Heightmeyer would say.”

          His relaxed stance belying sharp interest, Sheppard takes a step toward McKay. “Textbook of what?”

          “Oh,” McKay says. “She was orphaned at four... never adopted. Foster homes, group homes. When she turned sixteen she filed for emancipation from Family Services.”

          Sheppard seems to understand this very well. He hangs his head and rubs the back of his neck. “That explains a lot.”

          “Orphaned?” Teyla asks.

          Sheppard shakes his head sadly. “She lost her family... had nowhere to go so the government would put her in a home to be raised. They don’t always work out for older kids.”

          “Especially brilliant ones,” McKay says. “Remember, she’s got an IQ almost as high as mine, plus she’s eidetic; photographic and sense memory.”

          “Oh, man,” Sheppard says. “That’s a blessing and a curse.”

          “Yeah,” McKay says. Ronon questions McKay with a look. “She remembers everything she reads, hears and sees... possibly even smells and tastes. And I mean _everything_.”

          “Including the bad stuff,” Ronon says.

          Sheppard and McKay nod. The foursome starts for the gate again. After a moment, Ronon taps Sheppard on the shoulder. “I thought you said she had a brother.”

          “Oh, she does,” McKay says from behind them. “Half-brother anyway. They found each other about two years ago. I should say, he found her... or the military found her for him.”

          “Why would they do that?” Teyla asks.

          “He needed a bone marrow donor after he got exposed to a nasty bio-weapon while on assignment. She saved his life. We wanted him for the expedition, by the way. Nice kid. Great record, straight arrow. You would have hated him, Sheppard.”

          The Colonel glowers over his shoulder. “But the guy got a better deal, I suppose.”

          “Yeah, a wife. They were moving to Spain for his new post.”

          “Leaving Jax alone,” Ronon says quietly. “Again.”

          McKay nods as if he just realized the truth of that. “Yeah, I suppose so.”


	7. Chapter 7

** **

** ~ REGARD ~ **

          Ronon follows Sheppard through the Stargate; the Colonel’s gaze darts up to the balcony where Dr. Weir usually awaits their return from a mission. The balcony is empty and a flicker of disappointment crosses Sheppard’s face.

          “She has many meetings scheduled today,” Teyla tells the Colonel. She seems to know what the team members are thinking with a look into their eyes. Ronon finds this impressive and a little frightening.

          Sheppard shrugs, making a face as if it is of no consequence, and Ronon shares a knowing smile with both Teyla and McKay. Sheppard is not good at hiding his fond feelings for the expedition leader.

          They hand off their vests and weapons to a couple soldiers in the Gateroom and Ronon removes his radio. He has broken two of them in the short time he has been in here—the earpiece gets tangled in his hair—so he only wears one when on a mission. He refuses to wear it on Atlantis; too many people talking in his ear gives him a headache.

          The Colonel arches his back, stretching as he clicks his radio. “Dr. Weir?” After a moment he adds: “Elizabeth?”

          Teyla and McKay, heading toward the infirmary corridor, stop to look back at them. Ronon waits with Sheppard; an unspoken condition of his place in AT-1. Sheppard calls him his ‘wingman’. Ronon simply does his best to keep the Colonel out of trouble, on and off world. He is not always successful.

          That secret smile curves the Colonel’s lips indicating Dr. Weir responded.  “Why are you whispering?” He asks. Another moment: “What are you doing in the west-side gym?” The Colonel’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open as he turns to Ronon. “She just shushed me then shut off her radio!”

          “Why?”

          He shrugs and shakes his head. Then his left eyebrow arches. “I heard music in the background.” Mischief flashes in his eyes. “I wonder...” He taps Ronon’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

          “Where are we going?”

          “We need to give Dr. Weir our report.” He glances back. “Teyla, McKay, take the samples to Beckett. Tell him we’ll be by soon for our check-ups.” Teyla nods and McKay rolls his eyes in acknowledgment. Sheppard goes to the nearest transporter with Ronon on his heels.

          They travel to a different gym than the one used for training and sparring. According to Sheppard, this particular room is larger than the other and has a highly polished wood floor as opposed to a soft training mat.

          Stepping out of the transporter, Sheppard eagerly marches down the corridor faster than his usual loose-hipped gait.

          Earth music flows through open doors down the hall; different than before; slower with a distinct beat, but no voices.

[Jax's Solo Dance](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fTRTYxsZ54iB1mT4L0FQlWbPAE-EcjZT/view?usp=sharing)

          Unlike the last time, this music does not increase Ronon’s heart rate or make his muscles tense. It relaxes him; soothes him.

          “I know this,” Sheppard says thoughtfully as they approach the gym.

          Dr. Weir leans against the door frame outside the room, arms crossed over her uniform not exercise clothing. Sheppard’s face falls, clearly disappointed she is not participating in a ‘dance’ class. “Elizabeth?” She brings a finger to her lips, quieting them. At the door, they find what holds her enthralled. Save for the shimmering lights of dusk filtering through The City’s multi-hued glass windows, the room holds many shadows, growing darker with each passing moment.

          The music rises, changing pace, faster more energetic. The plucking of string instruments—Sateda and other worlds enjoyed them too—add to the beat of the Earth music, making Ronon’s blood pump. At once it is alien and familiar.  

          “Where do I know this song from?” Sheppard whispers to Dr. Weir.

          Keeping her voice low, she replies: “I believe it’s from a movie soundtrack... long, long time ago.”

          “In a galaxy far, far away?” Sheppard adds with a wink.

          Jax glides over the floor in time to the melody. No jerking moves or shakes of her hips and being alone, she does not call out. She simply floats; a bird in the air. In effortless leaps, she appears to hang in mid-flight, then lands with the lightness of a soft raindrop.

          In sharp contrast to the second-skin, zini—black!—material clinging to every curve of her form, a glittering fabric wraps her tiny waist, the alternating length of the skirt gently kissing her legs from mid-thigh to knee as she moves. Just as the skirt ascends and descends in angled lengths, the shiny, almost transparent material shifts through a myriad of hues reminiscent of the Lantean sky in the morning. It lifts and flies on the air as she does, as light as feathers. He has never seen clothing of this kind. The second skin covers her entire form from wrists to ankles, but the sculpted muscles of her body writhe beneath the surface, well-defined by years of hard use.

          Her whole being is a work of art.

          And Ronon wants to hide her from Sheppard’s sight. He shakes off that thought. She does not belong to him. He has no claim. And though he feels some strange—albeit strained—connection with her, he does not feel sexually attracted to her. He has no reason to be this… protective. Besides, Sheppard’s eyes are clearly for someone else.

          Jax spins around and around, stopping abruptly, facing them, but not seeing because she is wearing a blindfold. Ronon glances at Dr. Weir while pointing at the impossible image. “How...? Why...?”

          Dr. Weir whispers: “No distractions maybe.”

          “How does she not fall on her ass?” Sheppard’s brows crease together as he stares in wonder.

          Again, Ronon wants to remove the man from Jax’s presence. Something in the way he is watching her...

          Predatory.

          Jax slides to the music, turns, leaps high, her right leg sweeping out with her right arm, stretched to maximum length, her left leg and left arm follow in a slow arc; like Teyla stretches on her bed, one leg in front the other in back... only Jax is doing this in mid-air! She lands, holding all her weight on her right foot as the rest of her body gracefully finishes the turn. Ronon stares, astonished by the sheer power radiating from her; the strength, agility, and control over her body amaze him. Once again, she lifts her right leg, this time straight up in the air, holding it close to her torso, over her head, pointing her toes skyward! She holds the pose for a few moments then twists out of it.

          As the music continues, her lithe, supple form never stops moving, as though she is a part of the music; it lives inside the very core of her.

          She spins again, arms overhead, right foot to the left knee then kicks the right leg out to the beat of the music and spins once more; Dr. Weir gasps before quickly covering her mouth. After a few more leaps and spins, Jax flattens her left foot on the floor, leans forward, bending her knee just enough to hold her slight weight, straightening her right leg out behind her. She is a statue until the music shifts again and she slowly strokes her arms through the air in opposing directions along her body.

          “Ohmygod,” Dr. Weir says to herself. “It can’t be...”

          “What?” Sheppard asks.

          With a sparkle in her eyes, Dr. Weir taps Sheppard on the arm and leads away from the door. Sheppard gives Jax one last glance before following Dr. Weir. But Ronon finds it difficult to go. The word ‘dancer’ is another Earth term for him to learn but watching Jax move defines the meaning in the best way possible. He finds it relaxing and yet thrilling to see her–

          Sheppard pulls him away from the door by the upper arm. Next thing he knows, they are all heading for the transporter. The music follows them as they move away.

          “Colonel,” Dr. Weir starts. “I have a mission for you.”

          “Mission... we just got back. And let me tell you, those Bo... uh... Ba...”

          “Bowtiss,” Ronon supplies.

          “Right. Those Bowtiss have some interesting food.”

          “You didn’t eat anything, right?” She asks concerned.

          “No, no. We brought back samples of several items for Beckett to check. But Teyla has been trading with all three tribes for years without as much as a tummy ache among her people. She swears by this sweet but tart fruit called Tangis. Something akin to a pomegranate-orange hybrid.”

          “Sounds promising.” She cocks her head. “And you didn’t make any arrangements for weapons, I take it?”

          Sheppard scowls. “Not yet.”

          Teasing, she smiles and presses a destination on the transporter map screen. “Good to know.”

          A moment passes and the transporter door opens onto the Control Tower level. The daytime civilian in control of dialing the Stargate addresses nods to them as they head into Dr. Weir’s office. _What does Sheppard call him? Chucknician...?_

          Setting both hands flat on the desk surface, Dr. Weir lowers herself onto her chair. She reminds Ronon of Jax in that way... every move, no matter how small, done with deliberate forethought and control.

          Thinking of Jax, Ronon wonders why he needs to be here, he would much rather go back to the gym. He leans against the frame of the giant window next to the door in Dr. Weir’s office, sighs and crosses his arms.

          Sheppard drops into the chair facing Dr. Weir, his legs splayed, head tilted back at Ronon. “Give it a rest, Chewy. It’s her downtime; she obviously didn’t want an audience. Otherwise, why go so far into The City?” He rolls his head toward Dr. Weir. “Why were you there?”

          “She canceled her workout class, I wondered if anything was wrong. Found her by accident really. She was the only dot outside the main area on The City’s map.” Dr. Weir stares at Sheppard with her eyebrows arched. “Did you just call him Chewy?”

          Sheppard shrugs. “Yeah, well... you know. Chewbacca.”

          Dr. Weir tries unsuccessfully to hold in a laugh. “And this would make you... Han Solo?”

          Sheppard grins ear-to-ear making Ronon wonder why this name causes such uproar among the Lanteans. Teyla is not amused by it. She figures it has something to do with how much he eats in one sitting.

          Dr. Weir catches Ronon’s gaze and clears the laughter from her throat. Her face light red, she looks away from him, picking up a pen and twisting it around her fingers; lost in thought for a moment, then taps her headset. “Dr. Zelenka, this is Weir, could you come to my office please?” Her nod indicates his response.

          She smiles at Sheppard: “This new mission, Colonel, given your skills, should not take too much time. However, it must be discrete. Very discrete.”

          Sheppard narrow his eyes, considering her—it is all about the eyes with these two; sometimes they look at each other, never saying a word but seem to know exactly what the other is thinking, Ronon finds it eerie. Sheppard tilts his head. “What kind of mission?”

          “Off-world travel, of course... but you can’t tell Teyla or McKay what you’re looking for or why. Especially Rodney! You know how he blabs without thinking.”

          “What _are_ we looking for?”

          “A world full of snow and ice. Most importantly, it has to have a frozen lake safe to travel over. And no Wraith.”

          “Okaaay.” Sheppard’s face matches the confusion in his voice.

          “I have been to one,” Ronon says. “Unpopulated. I had to shoot through the ice to catch some food. At least a foot deep. But it has been several seasons.”

          Her eyes glisten with pleasure and her smile softens her face. Now, he realizes why Sheppard is so infatuated with the leader from Earth. She is truly beautiful. Power and beauty can be a deadly combination to a man’s ability to concentrate and function. “Do you remember the address?” She asks, full of hope.

          “I will try.”

          “’lizabeth, what are you up to?”

          “Increasing morale.” After a pause, she adds: “Colonel. Your mission, should you choose to accept it with the due secrecy I require, will net your entire team three days shore leave.” She points the pen at Sheppard, “You can go to the mainland and finally get in some surfing.”

          Sheppard all but ‘whoops’ with joy. “Really?” He gives Ronon that ‘thumbs up’ signal he and McKay like so much, then turns back to Dr. Weir. “OK. What’s the deal?”

          “Scout Ronon’s planet and if it doesn’t meet my requirements, find one that does. Discreetly.”

          “That’s it? Just scout a winter wonderland?”

          “Not exactly.” She purses her lips. “How good are you at setting up sound systems?”

          “Dr. Weir?” Dr. Zelenka inches his way into the office, skittish as a marsh rodent.

          “Radek. Thank you. Colonel, Ronon, you leave first thing in the morning.”

          Sheppard nods as does Ronon and they both step out of the office, sharing a confused look. Ronon raises his brows. “What is this about?”

          “Good question. But if I get my three days... I really don’t care so much.”

          As they walk away from the office, they hear Zelenka’s excited utterance: “Angela Peterson!” Turning back, they see Dr. Weir raising her hands and shushing the man now babbling in his own language. “Nesmírný tragédie! The most... graceful—” Dr. Weir closes her door, shutting off Zelenka’s words.

          Sheppard makes a face. He stops mid-step and glances back at Dr. Weir’s office. “That’s weird.”

          “Something new?”

          “Yeah...” He nods. “But that’s not the weird part.”

          “What is ‘weird’?” Ronon asks.

          Sheppard turns back to him, a new gleam in his eyes. “It’s the craziest thing... but, I think I know what’s going on.”

          “And that is... ‘weird’.” 

          “Oh, yeah.”

          So ‘weird’ means knowing what is happening? Why do they have so many words that mean the same thing? He will never fully understand Earth language. “You going to tell me?”

          Sheppard chews on his bottom lip, his eyes darting back to Dr. Weir’s office. “Not just yet. But,” he turns to Ronon. “I do have a job for you.”

          Ronon does not like the glint in Sheppard’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladyhawk movie track 10 (Navarres Ambush)


	8. Chapter 8

** ~ REQUEST ~ **

          Ronon presses his hands against the door frame, willing himself to knock. He cannot do it. He cannot do what Sheppard wants; too long away from civilization maybe? He sighs heavily, ready to turn and leave. Sheppard can find another way to get the information he wants. Just as he pushes himself away, the door slides open and more Earth music nearly knocks him over.

[Fake It by Seether](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Vy6baKC28tkjLtvVv4JAeGK_14RnoIG7/view?usp=sharing)

          Jax stares at him with those cool dark eyes, her face a blank canvas. Once again, she surprises him by somehow knowing he is near.

          _Does she have this ability with everyone or just him?_

          Not wearing a uniform like other Lantean groups, most of her clothing is black, like Sheppard’s, only, not the same military utilities. The thin material covering her upper torso has barely a thread on either shoulder holding it in place; exposing her long, toned arms and the tell-tale defining line of a woman from the low front. Even Teyla’s clothes do not reveal this much upper body flesh.

          Ronon finds the sight distracting and a bit unnerving. Stranger still, he has the urge to tell her to get dressed in more appropriate clothing. Even the baggy pants with the tie string at the waist disturb him; rolled up to the knees, showing much of her elegant legs. Her dark hair hangs in wet ringlets down to her chest, dripping on a bandage wrapped around her right shoulder and waist; holding something in place against her back.

          She tilts her head to the right and the music volume lowers dramatically without another motion from her. This latent ability she has controlling The City is astounding. Some may find it frightening. Ronon just accepts she is meant to be here. This is the home she has always needed. Jax moistens her lips. “What now?”

          “Can I come in?”

          “No.”

          Ronon leans against the door-frame as if holding up the walls. “Sheppard told me you cut hair.”

          Unwrapping the bandage from around her waist, she rolls the material onto itself. “I’m not responsible for his,” she says dryly.

          “Will you cut mine?”

          She stops; looks at him sharply. After a moment of holding his gaze prisoner, she works on removing the bandage again. “No.”

          Ronon’s brows shoot up. “Why not?”

          The remainder of the bandage falls away and he catches a glimpse of an infirmary cold-pack as it drops into her right hand behind her back. She turns and tosses the pack onto her bed and, though she tries to hide it from him, a large bruise on her right shoulder blade is exposed—a leftover from her purposeful tumble the other day.

          Her arms gently overlap at her waist, fingers drumming against the opposite arm; her face blank. “Is this your way of asking me out or something?”

          Ronon keeps his expression as neutral as hers. “No.” He tilts his head, considering her. “Why not?”

          “You’re hair?” He nods. She shrugs “Dreads fit you.”

          “Dreads?”

          “That’s what they’re called on Earth. Dreadlocks. Works for you.” She sniffs. “Especially the _dread_ part.”

          She looks up, studying his wild mane and sighs, sliding her lower jaw to the right. After a few moments, she says: “It could use a good shampooing and some conditioning.” She steps closer; a light, sweet scent wafts to his nostrils, jarring him. She does not seem the type for such a gentle fragrance. “Meet me in the mess at eleven-thirty tonight.” The door shuts in his face... without her touching the panel.

*§*

          “Good for you,” Sheppard says, stuffing a forkful of meat into his mouth. “Your first date.”

          “It is not a date.”

          Sheppard grins. “Sure. Where are you meeting her?”

          “Here.”

          His brows cinch. “Here?”

          “Eleven-thirty. When is that anyway?”

          Sheppard twists his wrist, showing the face of his timepiece. “23:30 hours. After the kitchen closes. We really need to get you a watch.”

          “One of those?” Sheppard nods. Ronon digs into his own food. “Sounds good.”

          After eating in silence for some time, Sheppard’s brows crease again. “Here?” Ronon shrugs and Sheppard shakes his head. “Well. Gotta start somewhere, I suppose.” After a few more bites, he adds. “It should be on the left, just under the collarbone.”

          “Close call.”

          “I’d say.” He raises his brows. “I doubt she’s going to show it to you on the first non-date, though.”

          “Saw it.”

          Sheppard’s eyes pop open. “Really? Don’t you move fast!”

          “No. She needs more clothing,” Ronon growls. “Saw the spot. No scar.” Sheppard’s brows wrinkle and his teeth tug on his bottom lip. Ronon shovels in more food, talking around it. “There is an off-color patch there though.”

          “What do you mean?”

          “The skin is a different color from the rest around it. A little darker, only if you are looking for it. About the right size for what you are thinking.”

          “Probably had tons of plastic surgery. Skin grafts to hide them. The trauma would have left a lot of scars.”

          Ronon sips his drink. “How did you know?”

          “Recognized the name.”

          “Important family on your planet?”

          “Or something.” Sheppard rocks his head from side-to-side, pushing his food around the plate. “I... I uh... my mom always followed the Olympics, since I was a kid. She loved the sport. It was a thing for us... after I lost her, I still... uh...” Sheppard’s eyes gloss over with a sad memory.

          Ronon pulls him back. “The contests you mentioned?”

          “Oh, the Olympics. Yeah. Worldwide athletic contests. It was her favorite.” Sheppard leans forward, motioning with his fork for emphasis. “And if any of my men find out what I just told you... about this... or my mom,” he meets Ronon’s eyes, “I will know who to hunt down.”

          “Why?”

          He closes his eyes, speaking low, barely moving his mouth. “It’s an Earth thing... a... guys don’t watch that particular event... thing.” After another moment, he adds. “If there’s another mark on her back or side, then we’d know.”

          “Why is this important? Like you said, she passed the background check.”

          Sheppard grimaces. “That whole foster kid, emancipation thing is most likely a lie. Except for the part about the military having to track her down. Must have pulled some serious strings on that one.”

          “And that is a problem.”

          He shrugs. “Probably not. But I’d rather be certain... than... not certain.” He gulps his drink. “I just like to know who I’m working with is all.”

          “You do not like Dr. Weir knowing something you do not.”

          Sheppard nods with a smirk. “There is that.”

          “Why not ask Jax?”

          Sheppard’s brow rises. “Like you said: she’s like you. Not exactly forthcoming with the information.”


	9. Chapter 9

** ~ HEED ~ **

          Ronon arrives at 23:30 hours, finding the mess dark and chairs piled atop shiny, damp table tops. He follows clinking glass into the back where the kitchen lights glow. A tall, curvy woman and two large men Ronon does not know stack clean dishes into the bins for the next day’s use. Jax stands behind them, drying her hands.

          To his surprise, she is wearing an identical utility as the other three; too big for her, the leggings and arms are rolled up to fit better, but it still hangs on her lithe form like a blanket. The bland, light hue reminds him of the Satedan sky full of gently falling rainwater. Among the Lantean uniforms, this appears the easiest to wear: one piece with a metal tag pulled up or down the front… zipper!

          Yes. Ronon likes zippers. And Velcro. He is fascinated by that as well. Too bad Sateda did not have these Earth inventions. Though to hear McKay talk, they are actually alien intelligence stolen by Earth people to make currency—numbered paper and mineral based coins used for trade instead of goods for goods; (of course, McKay took more time and used far more words to explain this concept).

          Ronon snorts mentally: Stolen alien inventions. Having lived his whole life in the shadow of the Wraith, Ronon knows about ‘stolen’ or ‘borrowed’ technology. Early Satedan’s scrounged for anything left over when they felled a Wraith Dart. It was how they managed to create their hi-caliber sonic weapons.

          In the end, it did not matter, however. The Wraith, being far more numerous and powerful, destroyed his planet—his people—while he was running from them for their entertainment. He will make them all pay for what they have taken.

          Shaking off the unpleasant memories, he looks at Jax: hair piled high on her head, dark curls breaking free around her neck; a few strands stick to her moist forehead. Thin wires come from her ears down to a little white box clipped to a small pocket on her chest.

_Striking._

          Tossing the towel over her shoulder, she nods to him. “Grab a chair from the mess.”

          The others glance at him then, in unison and without changing their dead expressions, return to stacking dishes. Ronon takes the nearest chair and carries it back into the kitchen. Jax waves him over to her end, pointing at the space before a low basin, Ronon drops the chair into place. “Sit,” she says. He does.

          “Night, Jax.” One of the men calls, waving.

          “Goodnight Owen.” She nods to the other two as they leave. “Cassie, Jeff.”

          “Night,” they say together. With a final glance at Ronon, they walk out, faces as emotionless as Jax’s.

          Ronon grunts: “Friendly.”

          Eyes slightly glazed and heavy-lidded; her face a light red hue, Jax scolds him. “They’re tired.”

_Defensive_.

          The towel disappears from her shoulder. “Lean back.” As he does, she lifts his hair into the basin. Ronon feels the towel pillowing his neck.  “You’d have to go to Earth to get the dreads done right with oils and such.” That is the most she has spoken to him at one time.

          As she leans over and turns on the water, muffled music escapes the wires in her ears, the same that she danced to earlier. She hums along, off tune, which makes him smile inside. Not so perfect… but he knew that. Perfection is boring. Jax is _not_ boring.

          Warm water soaks into his thick hair, bathing his head; it really has been a long time since he indulged in something like this. On the run, he was lucky to find a cold stream or pond to dunk in before the Wraith caught his signal and were on him again. Simply sitting and letting warm water deluge his hair is a luxury of time he never had.

          Jax leans over him, massaging something into his scalp, sending warm tingles from his head, down his back to his toes until his whole body relaxes. Sheppard wasn’t lying about her touch… it is hypnotic. Before he realizes it, his eyes are closed and his mind wanders over the events of the day…

          Meeting the Bowtiss. Avoiding marriage to the matron’s second oldest daughter.

          Strolling through the fields toward the Stargate… talking with his team.

          Standing outside the gym watching Jax float through the air. She spins and jumps, turns and kicks with all the grace of a bird in lift-off. Her hair spills from the top of her head, tumbling in ringlets over her shoulders and down her back, below her waist; longer than it truly is. She twirls again, stopping mid-turn to smile at him, dark eyes gleaming, but she is not Jax! She is replaced by a beautiful face long gone. “Ronon,” the young woman sighs on a breath of happiness.

          “Nally!” Ronon jerks, opening his eyes, nearly bursting from the chair. Jax jumps away, crouching low, tense, not afraid, ready—with white bubbles all over her hands. Ronon looks around, coming back to his senses. He clears his throat and leans back against the sink. “Sorry.” Her eyes narrow but, otherwise, Jax does not move a muscle. Ronon looks up at the ceiling, deciding it is best to keep his eyes open, no matter how relaxed he gets.

          It takes a couple moments before she returns and rinses his hair. “Who was she?” Jax asks softly, massaging some other liquid into his scalp. Her fingers gently tug on his ‘dreads’. Though he does not say anything, Jax senses what he is thinking. “Someone you loved,” she nods.

          Ronon shifts in the chair. “Yes.” Jax continues working the liquid to the ends of his hair. She starts humming along with her music again. Ronon reaches over, yanks the wires, pulling the earpieces out. “Turn it off.”

          Surprisingly, she does not jump away. Instead, she presses a button on the music box, without objection. “Better?”

          Ronon nods.

_Understanding_.

          She rinses her hands but not his hair, and then moves to a nearby rack, pulling out a fresh towel to dry her hands. Jax looks at her timepiece, then folds her arms and leans against the rack, closing her eyes. “Five minutes.”

          When she sighs, Ronon’s gaze draws to her: face slack with exhaustion, darker than before, glistening with a light sheen. Her soft, smooth skin shows no tell-tale lines or discolorations marking her age. If Sheppard’s theory is correct, she should be older than Ronon by several Earth years… just as Nally. If Sheppard’s theory is correct, she should be dead… just as Nally.

          “Who did it?” He breaks the silence and her eyes pop open. Her left hand automatically goes to the hidden spot under her uniform then continues up to rub her neck as if that was the intended destination. “Who taught you to kill so accurately?”

          The briefest of smiles starts at the corner of her mouth and her face softens, she looks younger than before, almost happy. “He taught me to survive.”

          Ronon realizes that this trainer… this man meant more to Jax than her own life. Not unlike Nally did to him. “What is there to survive on Earth? No Wraith-”

          With a blink, her expression turns flat, cold. “Humans don’t need the Wraith. We destroy each other.”

          “Who did you need to survive?”

          She stares at him with that cool, unblinking, unfeeling gaze; expressing nothing, giving away nothing. Always hiding behind that impossibly blank mask. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Ronon waits. She tilts her head. “I saw something I shouldn’t have and… remembered.”

          “And they came for you.” She arches her right brow. Ronon nods. “You are like me.”

          A twitch in her upper lip and a sudden sparkle in her eyes prove to Ronon there is someone inside that graceful body, held prisoner behind that mask; a soul that floats on the air with music. And that hidden soul belongs to someone else. Sheppard is correct. Maggie Jackson, _Jax_ , is a lie.

          She pulls a small bottle from her pocket, shakes out two white pills then pops them into her mouth and swallows before closing the bottle and stuffing it back into her pocket.

          “Are you ill?”

          “Preventive measures.”

          “Preventing what?”

          “Stress.” She glances at her timepiece then returns to the basin and rinses his hair. After several moments wringing excess water from his mane, she returns to the rack and tosses him a large towel. “We’re done.”

          Ronon stands up, leaving the towel on the chair and shakes his head, sending water drops flying about the kitchen. For a moment he could swear he hears Jax chuckle, but when he looks at her, she is leaning against the towel rack, arms crossed and eyes closed. Ronon touches his hair. It does feel… better. “Thank you.”

          “Here to serve,” she says, opening her still glazed eyes. The hue of her face has deepened again. She does not look well.

          “Jax…?”

          “I need to clean up.” She motions to the open end of the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get out of here sometime this century.”

          As on the first day they met, she makes him feel he has to comply. Because of the dream, he now realizes why Jax affects him so easily. Why her tone and defiance annoy him. Nally used to treat him the same… and he always obeyed.

          With a simple glance in his direction or a tilt of her head, Nally had his complete attention. Though, unlike with Jax, Ronon did everything Nally asked simply to make her happy. Seeing her smile had been the best part of every day of his life.

          Nally. The most precious person ever borne into any universe. So pure. So strong. So beautiful. So loving. Seeing her unhappy for a moment could break anyone’s heart.

          Stolen away at the beginning of her life! Stolen by the Wraith!

          He has pushed her memory away for so long, that the sudden return of her blasts him full force, threatening to overpower him… break him. He closes his eyes tight.

          His burning rage against the Wraith barely containable on a moment to moment basis tightens his muscles and boils his blood as it pounds in his ears.

          His hands curl into fists; his arms tense and bulge.

          When he opens his eyes, Jax is moving away from the towel rack, pushing herself into a tight corner of the wall, as far away from him as she can get. Ronon has witnessed hatred and rage in her eyes… this is the first time he has seen fear.

          And he is causing it.

          Though she still backs away, that ice shield she no-doubt perfected over the years quickly hides her fear. “Leave now,” she says. Not a yell or a scream as many other frightened females might react, but a low growl of warning.

          Ronon realizes she is not pushing herself into a corner to hide, but from which to launch an attack.

_Fierce_.

          Ronon forces himself to relax. He drops his gaze to the floor, shaking his head: “You remind me…” From under his brows, he locks eyes with Jax, “…of her.” After a hard in-take of air, he adds: “The Wraith…” He shakes his head again and groans. “I watched her die.”

          She nails him with those hard, unforgiving eyes, but her voice remains level, emotionless. “It’s tragic your wife… girlfriend… whatever… died. It happens. You deal. You move on. And if you’re lucky… you forget.”

          “You have never lost someone you love,” Ronon spits.

          Jax draws herself upright coming out of the corner, body coiled for an attack, hands fisted, jaws clenched, eyes ablaze. “I lose _everyone_ I love,” she growls, the rumble coming from deep inside. “And I don’t get the convenience of blaming the Wraith,” she spits back. “ _I_ kill them.”

          Ronon can only stare at her.

          “You’re nothing special, Ronon Dex.” She looks him up and down with those hate-filled eyes. “We are _nothing_ alike.” Her defiant gaze locks onto his again. “Now get out of my face, before I get testy.”

          Ronon does not move. He cannot. His booted feet stick to the floor. It is her eyes again: all that hatred and rage. At first, he felt it flowing out of her, at everyone else, blaming the universe and beyond…but there is only one target for all that fury… herself.

          If he pulled his gun and aimed it at her face, she would probably stare down the barrel and wait patiently for him to shoot.

_Untouchable_.


	10. Chapter 10

** ~ TURMOIL ~ **

          A single clap at the kitchen entrance jars both Ronon and Jax out of their stare-down. “Hey, what’re you kids still doing up?” Sheppard’s boisterous voice echoes off the walls.

          Jax’s breath catches as her eyes dart to Sheppard then down to the floor. Her face softens even as the hue rises again. “Nothing, Colonel,” she says quietly, turning away. “Mr. Dex was just leaving.”

          Ronon glances at Sheppard, who raises his brows in question, then back at Jax; busy wiping down the sink basin, avoiding looking at either of them. With a grunt, Ronon stomps passed Sheppard and out into the darkened mess hall.

          “What the hell did I walk in on?” Sheppard hisses, catching up to him. “She looked ready to kill you.”

          Ronon heads for the exit, forcing Sheppard to keep his pace. “Possibly.”

          “Why?”

          “Does not matter. You are correct… she is not who she claims. Mission a success.”

          “Hey,” Sheppard jogs beside him. “That’s not the only reason you did this. Is it?”

          “No,” Ronon grumbles. “My hair feels great.” Charging forward, his gait eating up the slick, tiled city floor towards the transporter, Ronon ignores his new commander’s huff of annoyance. He wasted time trying to get close to her. He has no use for her irritating, spitfire attitude. The invisible but callous wall she hides behind is far too thick to crack. And… he is not physically attracted to her. So why bother? She is Jax. A lesson in patience and understanding he does not need.

          And yet…

          There is a softness in her. Buried so far down, she probably does not even know it exists.

          And for some reason. He cares.

          That hidden soul he glimpsed; sealed away in a prison of hatred and rage. Controlled by a carefully constructed shield of icy contempt. He wants to melt that ice. See that rage dissipate. He wants that imprisoned soul to emerge full force and fly free on the wings of music. He wants her to smile and laugh.

          Like Nally.

          Ronon halts before the transporter, hanging his head, giving it a good shake. He can still feel Jax’s fingers massaging his scalp. Hear her off-tune hum. The hue rising in her cheeks and the catch of her breath. Breaking down her barriers should be another’s job.

          Within a moment, Sheppard is by his side again, glowering. “I thought you liked this girl. If there’s gonna be a problem… I want it over, now.”

          Ronon bares his teeth in a wild grin. “You are not very observant for a military man, Sheppard.”

          His eyes widen and his brows shoot up. “What?”

          “There is nothing to be _over_. It does not matter if I like her… if McKay likes her… if every man on every planet in the galaxy likes her. She is taken.” He grimaces, narrowing his eyes. “By someone who does not even see her.”

          “Who?”

          Ronon crosses his arms. “Does not matter. I think she likes it that way.”

          Sheppard’s brows crease and he raises a finger as if writing in the air, trying to understand: “She likes some guy who does not like her and she likes that?”

          “Yes.”

          Sheppard makes many faces in succession, trying to say something and though his lips continue moving, the words die without his voice.

          A crash from the mess hall startles them. They glance at each other, then run back to the cafeteria.

          The lights come on as soon as the Colonel enters—his silent command over The City as powerful as Jax’s.

          Hidden behind a table, Jax lays face down on the floor among scattered chairs. Sheppard kneels by her side with Ronon opposite a moment later. The Colonel rolls over her limp, unconscious form. Her skin glistens with sweat. Sheppard touches her face and neck with the back of his hand. “She’s burning up.” He clicks his headset. “Beckett, it’s Sheppard. Beckett! Medical emergency in the mess hall.”

* § *

          Dr. Beckett arrives before his team, clearly roused out of bed; he rushes into the mess, still wearing his night clothes. At least he didn’t waste time getting dressed. Ronon stands and moves out of the way so the doctor can check his patient. He lifts one of Jax’s eyelids and flashes a small but bright light into it then does the same to the other.

          “She’s got a fever,” Sheppard says.

          Beckett touches her face the same way Sheppard did. “Aye.” He unzips the front of her uniform, exposing the clothing she wore earlier, now drenched in sweat. “That she does.”

          “What is wrong with her?” Ronon asks, hovering above the others.

          “Could be anything,” Beckett says, pressing an instrument to her chest the other ends into his ears, larger than the wires from Jax’s music box, but meant for a similar reason. He listens. “Tachycardia.”

          Sheppard catches Beckett’s gaze. “That’s bad!”

          “It’s not good.” Beckett listens again. “Shallow breaths.”

          Rebecca and Kellie, two of the nurses on Beckett’s team rush in maneuvering a gurney. Rebecca is fierce and forceful with patients, but she knows her job; she ‘flushed’ his wounded leg after the arrow incident. Kellie reminds him of Dr. Weir: Quiet mannered but the one in charge in whatever room she enters.

          Sheppard lifts Jax as if she weighs nothing, and gently places her on the moving bed. Her eyes open. “Jax,” Sheppard starts. “You okay?”

          Kellie presses something into Jax’s right ear and it beeps. “A hundred–two point six.”

          Jax stirs, “Whaaaa-…” she tries to sit up but cannot even lift her head.

          “Saline drip,” Kellie orders and Rebecca extracts Jax’s left arm from the uniform and swabs inside the bend at the elbow; when she pulls out a long needle, Ronon looks away.

          Jax’s eyes roll until they lock onto Sheppard’s as he leans over her. “Ryan?” A soft smile lifts her lips as her right hand comes up, fingertips grazing Sheppard’s cheek. She blinks heavily. The smile vanishes. “No… you have his eyes,” her eyes close and her hand drops heavily.

          Sheppard catches it. “Jax? Jax, wake up.”

          Kellie moves in front of Sheppard, making him step back. She takes Jax’s hand from him and pulls her right arm free of the uniform. She wraps something black around it then squeezes a bubble. The black wrap grows around Jax’s upper arm, then slowly releases with a hiss of air.

          “Blood pressure is 70 over 50,” she tells Beckett, pulling off the wrap with a _zzzip_ of Velcro.

          “Let is get moving!” Dr. Beckett gives the gurney a push.


	11. Chapter 11

** ~ INSIGHT ~ **

          Ronon and Sheppard follow the medical staff hustling the gurney into the infirmary. Sheppard glances at Ronon and they lock gazes. The Colonel has something to say but holds it in. He can wait. Ronon is more interested in Jax’s situation. The moment she said the name ‘Ryan’, Ronon knew Jax thought Sheppard to be the man who taught her to survive. And he is certain Jax would never have left Earth if that man still lived.

          _I lose_ everyone _I love._

          Perhaps McKay’s orphan ramblings about Jax are truer than Sheppard believes.

          Nurse Rebecca straps the oxygen mask over Jax’s nose and mouth.

          “Doctor!” Nurse Kellie draws everyone’s attention to Jax’s fingertip. She presses the nail until it turns white, when she releases, it stays white for several moments.

          “Bloody hell,” Beckett growls. “Get me Chem-20, CBC, BUN, and Creatine levels ASAP.” The nurses get to work: taking blood from Jax’s right arm and from _the back_ of her left hand. The needle stabbing into the back of her hand makes Ronon cringe inside; she’s so small with delicate hands and that needle is long and thick; it could pierce right through to her. The blood swirling from that location looks darker than the other vial; almost black. Beckett turns to Sheppard and Ronon. “She’s severely dehydrated. That’s what the fingernail test shows.”

          “Dehydrated?” Sheppard’s brows wrinkle in confusion. “From what?”

          “What does that mean?” Ronon asks.

          Beckett takes a deep breath. “The human body is 70% water. When you put out more than you take in…”

          “So, she will be all right,” Ronon nods. “Once you put the water back.”

          “It’s not that simple, son. She’s in a bad state.”

          “She’s not gonna die, though, right Carson?”

          He scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s a possibility, Colonel. We may not have caught it in time. She could go into shock… renal failure…”

          Ronon takes a step toward the doctor. “You are not going to let her die.”

          Beckett grasps Ronon’s arm, offering comfort. “I’ll try my best, son. But, aside from her current state, I don’t know what caused the condition in the first place. There could be any number of reasons and complications.”

          Ronon could shoot himself. She did not look well when she was washing his hair, yet he did not even ask if she was feeling ill.

          The nurses finish; Kellie grabs the blood vials, marks them with a pen then rushes away. Beckett re-joins Rebecca and draws the privacy curtain hanging from the ceiling around the bed.

          “Carson–” Sheppard starts.

          “You’re welcome to stay, Colonel. In fact, since you two have had direct contact with her, I don’t want you going anywhere until you’re checked out as well. Just in case. But we have to undress and change the lass. I doubt she wants an audience for that.”

          “Right. Sorry.” Sheppard turns around, ignores the empty chairs available and leans against the wall instead. He bites his bottom lip as he stretches his neck from side to side; he is thinking again, rather loudly.

          Ronon joins him. After a moment, he can feel the Colonel’s eyes on him. He turns his head sharply. “What?!”

          Sheppard licks his lips. “What you said earlier… you weren’t talking about… that guy she mentioned. Were you.”

          “So. You do have some sense in you,” Ronon grunts. Sheppard crosses his arms and bites on his bottom lip again, his brows creasing with concern. “Relax,” Ronon adds. “She likes being invisible.”

          He makes a face and knocks the back of his head against the wall. “That makes me feel _so_ much better. Thanks.”

          Movement on the other side of the curtain reminds them they are not alone. Something _tinks_ as it hits the floor and rolls around in a circle outside the curtain. Ronon picks it up, recognizing the small bottle. “Doc.”

          “Yeah.”

          “She took some of these.” He shakes it.

          Beckett steps out from behind the curtain; takes the bottle and looks at the label. “Dear Lord.” Opening it, he pours out the remaining pills and counts them. With a heavy sigh, he says, “I think we’ve got an overdose on our hands.”

          Sheppard pushes away from the wall. “Drugs!”

          “In a manner of speaking.” He returns the pills to the bottle and snaps the cap closed before handing it to Sheppard.

          “Caffeine tabs?”

          “Aye,” Beckett sighs again. “And if that’s from my new batch, the bottle’s only three days old.” He huffs in frustration. “Only seven pills left. Seven out of sixty.”

          “Oh man!” Sheppard groans.

          Ronon looks hard at both men. “I do not understand.”

          Beckett shakes his head. “Caffeine’s a stimulant.”

          “Keeps you awake,” Sheppard adds, tossing the bottle back to the doctor. “We were all using stims when the Wraith attacked The City. But why would she still be taking them?”

          “For stress,” Ronon tells them.

          “Stress!” Sheppard and Beckett say at the same time.

          “She called them a preventive measure… for stress.”

          “No, no, no…” Beckett shakes his head. “That can’t be right. You must’ve misheard her, son.”

          “No.”

          Sheppard scratches his chin, there is something in his eyes like he is trying to find a memory but cannot quite place it. “You can OD on caffeine?”

          “Aye,” Beckett says. “Not as easily as the harder stimulants I was giving McKay and Zelenka while they were fixing the bombs. It’s very rare. But it’s more than just a stimulant. It’s a diuretic as well. If she’s been taking these for a long time, she’s built up a tolerance, which means more pills per day, so then she builds up toxicity. The body can’t handle losing so much fluid. It causes hallucinations, palpitations—which we’ve seen—along with unconsciousness.” He motions to the curtained area.

          “You said they keep you awake,” Ronon says.

          “Aye, but the dehydration causes the body to shut down.”

          Rebecca slides out from behind the curtain carrying Jax’s clothes and nods to all of them before heading into the back.

          “I gotta cut down on my coffee,” Sheppard sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

          “If you drink twenty cups a day, Colonel, then, yes you need to cut down. One of these tablets equals two cups of coffee.” He looks at Ronon. “How many did you see her take?”

          “Two.”

          “Four cups of coffee?” Sheppard raises his brows. “I’d be agitated for hours.” He holds up a finger. “There’s something so familiar about this… it’s on the tip of my tongue.”

          “What happens if you do not sleep?” Ronon asks.

          “Oh, boy,” Beckett starts. “Your whole body goes haywire. The brain needs sleep to recuperate. Rational thought flies out the window, jumpiness, anxiety; paranoia runs rampant… not to mention becoming one hell of a cheeky bastard.”

          Seeing Ronon’s confusion, Sheppard helps: “Not such a nice person.”

          “That explains a lot.” Ronon nods.

          Beckett’s brows rise. “How’s that–”

          “What’s happening?” Jax asks. “Where am I?” Beckett pulls the curtain aside, revealing a seemingly alert patient. They changed her into the white infirmary utilities. She tries to sit up, but the doctor places a hand on her shoulder.

          “Relax, lass. You need to stay here.”

          “No.” Jax twists her shoulder, pulling away from Beckett and swinging her legs over the left side of the bed. “No, not here... runrunrun...” Her feet hit the floor and she falls forward. Ronon and Sheppard move in at the same time, each getting a hold of one arm and keeping her upright. She tries to push them away. “Let me go!”

          “Get her on the bed,” Beckett orders, stepping aside. Ronon picks her up, lays her down, and she instantly scrambles off the other side of the bed.

          She grabs onto a monitor to steady herself, but the wheels of the table are not locked and it shifts a bit. She glares at the monitor as though it is at fault. “Not safe,” she mutters as though talking to herself.

          Sheppard gets a few feet in front of her, blocking an escape.

          “She’s hallucinating,” Beckett says. “Get her lying down, Colonel.” He rushes passed Ronon toward the back of the infirmary.

          “Jax,” Sheppard reaches for her and she takes a couple jerky steps backward, bumping into the wall. Using the wall for support, she inches over, getting the monitor between her and Sheppard. “We’re trying to help you,” he says, his voice low and soothing.  

          Her eyes dart around the infirmary, but Ronon is not sure she is truly _seeing_ the room. Her mind seems to have taken her to another place; a terrifying place. The question is: does she know who _they_ are?

          “Get away!” She gives the monitor on wheels a surprisingly strong shove at Sheppard then moves to the empty bed next to hers.

          So: _No_ … she does not know them. Ronon is sure she would never do anything to upset or injure Colonel Sheppard.

          Before she can climb onto the other bed, the I.V. line attached to the inside of her left arm jerks at her. Jax glances down, considers the line with confusion, then yanks the tether out, squirting blood and fluid everywhere.

          “Carson, get in here!” Sheppard calls. “Jax, you need to listen.”

          In her strange state; she neither feels nor sees the blood pumping from the jagged hole she ripped in her arm. Ronon holds up his hands, palms out. “You need to calm down.”

          “Yeah, what he said,” Sheppard motions to Ronon and Jax’s eyes follow. Sheppard takes the opportunity to move closer, but she rolls over and off the second bed.

          “Don’t…” she holds up both hands, arms straight, blood streaming from the left. “I… I won’t talk. I won’t do it… anything.”

          “Carson!” Sheppard calls louder this time.

          “Coming. Just–” He sees the blood. “She pulled out her I.V.?”

          “Sheppard!” Ronon warns too late; Jax lunges forward, plowing her shoulder into Sheppard’s stomach and sending them both crashing to the floor. She lands on top of him, crawls over him, heading for the door, but Ronon grabs her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. She kicks and flails, but—lucky for him—never connects.

          “You okay, Colonel?” Beckett asks as Sheppard gets up.

          “Fine.” He sounds winded.

          “She is here but not here,” Ronon tells them, holding her tight, though she does not stop fighting. “How is that possible? How did she know where the door is?”

          “Hallucinations can meld with reality,” Beckett states. “Let me in there, son. I’ve got a sedative.”

          “NO!” Jax’s roar echoes off the walls.

          “Yep,” Sheppard nods. “She understood that.”

          Lashing out with renewed energy, she smacks Beckett in the face, knocking him backward with a pain-filled yelp. Her other fist slams down, hitting Ronon in the crotch, making him howl as he drops her. On hands and knees, she squirms away, crawling under a nearby table. Folded over, Ronon pulls his gun, set on stun, but Sheppard raises his hands. “Don’t.” Sheppard goes down on one knee in front of the table. “Jax…”

          Shaking violently, breath raspy, her eyes bounce around the room, taking in everything, but seeing nothing.

          “We aren’t trying to hurt you,” Sheppard adds. “I promise.”

          Crouching on the balls of her feet, fists on her knees, her eyes dance around, scanning everywhere, reminding Ronon of a scared tib’bar.

          Sheppard keeps his voice steady, calm. “Jax, I need to you come out of there, so we can help you.”

          “Sheppard,” Ronon growls, still trying to set aside the pain. “Use her real name.”

          The Colonel glances up at Ronon then nods. He turns back to Jax. “Maggie–”

          “No,” Ronon says. “Her _real_ name.”

          Sheppard nods again, taking a deep breath. “Angela?”

          “What?” Beckett glances between the men. “Who’s Angela?”

          “She is,” Ronon says. “Long explanation.”

          She turns to Sheppard, her face pale, sweaty and filled with fear. Tilting her head, she stares at him with narrowed eyes that widen in surprise. “Ryan?” Tentatively, she reaches for him but pulls back and pushes herself farther under the table. “Nononono… who are you!”

          Sheppard glances at Ronon, raising his brows in question. Ronon shrugs. “Try it.”

          He turns back to her. “It’s me, Angela. Look at my eyes. It’s Ryan. I’m here.” She looks at him for a long time before that soft smile hits her. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. But you need to come out from there.” When she does not react, Sheppard quietly adds: “You’re not safe under there.”

          This time, when she reaches for him, Sheppard takes her hand. She allows him to pull her out from under the table; he helps her stand up, getting a firm grip on shoulders. She smiles; gazing into his eyes, “Ryan?” then cups his face with both hands, smearing her blood on his cheek. Her eyes widen again, this time in agonizing fear and heartbreak; her mouth opens as if to scream but nothing comes out.

          “Any time, doc,” Sheppard says and Beckett plunges the needle into her arm. She wrenches away from Sheppard’s grip, grabbing her arm, backing up a wobbly step.

          “What the fuck was that!” Jax returns: the defiance, the steely eyes. No fear. No heartache. Rage.

          “Just a sedative, lass. To help you sleep.”

          “No.” Her feral emotions transform her face into a wild predator: “You bastard!” She launches herself at Beckett, but Ronon catches her mid-attack, just before her legs buckle. She may be a graceful dancer turned wild animal but she weighs next to nothing for Ronon when he carries her to the bed. As he lays her down, she grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls hard “Ronon!” Obviously back with them, her glassy eyes widen, pupils dilate. “Don’t make me sleep.”

          “You do not have a choice now, Jax.”

          Her grip fails as her body gives in to the drug and her hand slips from his hair. Still, she fights to keep her eyes open, to stay awake. “Ronon…” The icy façade melts from her gaze, leaving her completely defenseless. “Please,” she sighs.

          That must be the hardest thing she has ever said to anyone… especially him. But there is nothing he can do for her. “Sorry.”

          Her eyelids grow heavy, but she keeps them open as long as she can. Her body trembles and a soft cry escapes as she finally succumbs to the drug. Tears flow over her temples and into her hair. Within moments she loses the fight.

          “Wow,” Sheppard exhales hard. “That was… different.”

          “To say the least,” Beckett agrees. “Okay. I’ve got to get that arm cleaned up and start a fresh IV. But first things first. Rebecca,” He calls to the back. “We need the restraints for this l’il one.” He turns back to Sheppard and Ronon. “Just in case.”

          Sheppard runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not doubting you there, doc.” He looks at Ronon. “She’s feisty. And surprisingly strong.”

          Ronon looks down at Jax. Her face peaceful, but he knows it is just another mask. “That she is.”

          “Now that we know what caused this, I see no reason to keep you lads here. You need to get cleaned up too, Colonel. No worries about pathogens, though. Everyone here’s been checked and triple checked. So, off with ya both.”

          “I am staying,” Ronon says. Both Sheppard and Beckett look at him.

          “The lass’s gonna be asleep for hours, Ronon,” Beckett says. “She won’t even know you’re here.”

          “And would not care either way,” Ronon says dryly. He cocks his head. “Will she dream?”

          Beckett nods. “I don’t see why not. Sometimes sedatives can lead to very vivid dreams.”

          Ronon grabs her hand, linking his fingers through hers. “Then I will stay.”

          Sheppard groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s why she took the pills.”

          “What’s that, Colonel?” Beckett asks.

          “ _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ , doc.”

          “I’m not following you.”

          Sheppard moves to the foot of the bed. “She’s been taking the stims so she won’t dream.”

          “No,” Ronon says, looking down at her. “So she will not remember.”


	12. Chapter 12

** ~ POWER ~ **

          She thrashes, twists and pulls against the restraints. Arches her back. Gnashes her teeth and growls deep in her chest. Tears stream from her eyes. She whimpers. Screams.

          Ronon offers his strength, squeezing her hand and softly telling her she is not alone; unsure if she can hear him, but proud she is fighting her demons… surviving even as her fever rages on, pulling more water from her dehydrated body; drenching her clothes and hair.

          It is when she lays motionless and cries silently that disturb him; afraid she has given up.

          Beckett comes up behind him and injects something into the IV line now connected to her right arm. “More sedative?”

          “No lad. Electrolytes.” He is about to explain but Ronon holds up a hand to stop him. With his fingers, Beckett brushes damp hair away from Jax’s forehead. “She’s in REM sleep now.”

          “She stopped fighting,” Ronon says sadly.

          “She can’t right now,” Beckett tells him. “Her body’s paralyzed. Even though we dream in all stages, this one’s the most vivid, like little movies but we don’t have any muscle control. When she’s talking or moving… that’s the deepest level of sleep. Fewer images, more emotion. Or so the studies say.”

          This is exactly what she was trying to avoid: the immobility… the helplessness. Memories she cannot fight.

          That is why Ronon had to forget Nally; push her memory deep down. Seeing the Wraith grab her, feed on her and being unable to stop it. He had been powerless to defend her… to save her. He turned that helpless feeling into rage against the Wraith. It sustained him for many years before becoming a runner and will sustain him until death.

          Jax does not have that. As she said, she cannot blame the Wraith. So she blames herself. _I kill them._ Ronon is certain she did not mean by her own hand. She means they die because of what she saw, what she remembers.

          “Get down!” Her shout jars both men. Beckett ducks, looking overhead; then glances at Ronon, embarrassed. She strains against the ankle bands as if running. Her arms try to come up, but the bands around her wrists hold her down. “Ryan!” A pain-filled gasp and a heartbreaking sob follow; then: “Nooooonononono....”

          Without warning, she jerks upright, gripping Ronon’s hand, looking directly at him with wet eyes full of fire. “I’m going to kill you!” Then she drops back onto the bed, eyes closed but legs still kicking.

          “What the hell?” Beckett is stunned.

          “That,” Ronon says, feeling a slight smile tug at his mouth. “Is a Runner.”

* § *

          Ronon feels pressure on his shoulder and opens his eyes. He fell asleep in the chair, still holding Jax’s hand. He turns; Sheppard is standing behind him, “Morning sunshine.” Ronon grimaces, he is usually more alert to his surroundings; especially if someone comes up behind him. Sheppard lifts his chin toward Jax. “How is she?”

          “Tied up, it seems,” Jax growls. Ronon turns back; she narrows her gaze at him. “Something tells me it was your idea.”

          “Nope,” Sheppard comes to his defense. “But it wasn’t debated.”

          Jax raises a brow at the Colonel then a series of pained expressions cross her face; she closes her eyes and sinks into her pillow with a groan. “Who hired the guy with the bongos?” Ronon glances at Sheppard then turns back at Jax. She sighs heavily as she looks at him. “My head is pounding…” Her brows arch, waiting for him to nod with understanding. Which he does. Their language is so strange sometimes. She looks around the room, getting her bearings, still a bit drowsy. “What happened?”

          “You don’t remember?” Sheppard moves to the foot of the bed, his hands behind his back.

          Jax closes her eyes and her brow wrinkles. “No.” She glances at her shirt. “And why am I all sticky?”

          “That would be the fever, lass,” Beckett says as he joins them. He presses the little machine into her ear and it beeps. “Which is broken now, thankfully.” He starts removing her wrist strap, motioning to Ronon to follow suit. He pulls his hand free of hers, not that she notices and undoes the belt on the cuff.

          Jax locks her eyes on the doctor, her brow wrinkling again. “Dr. Beckett?”

          “Yes, love.”

          “Why do I want to kick you in the shin... really hard?”

          Beckett’s eyes widen and his fingers stop moving on the restraint. He glances at Sheppard, who shrugs. “Um… the doc had to give you a shot last night,” Sheppard says. “You didn’t like it so much.”

          “Hmm. Okay then.” Seeing that she is completely calm, Beckett finishes releasing her left hand. She rubs her wrists as the doctor takes off the ankles restraints. “Someone gonna fill me in?”

          “That would be nice,” Dr. Weir says from the doorway. All eyes turn to her and she smiles with that familiar I’m-the-boss grin.

          Jax looks at Beckett again. “Well?” He takes out the bottle of caffeine pills and shows it to her. That blank expression Ronon is used to covers any emotion she may be having. “Oh.”

          “I think we need to have a chat, love.”

          Jax shrugs a shoulder. “How ‘bout I just say… ‘oops’. And ‘sorry’. And ‘I promise never to do it again’?”

          “Sorry?” Dr. Weir steps over to the bed, standing next to Sheppard; the Colonel rolls his shoulders back, standing up straighter. “I don’t think a _promise_ is going to cut it, Maggie.”

          At the mention of that first name, Jax’s dangerous glare falls on Dr. Weir briefly before she drops her gaze to her hands. “It’s all I have.”

          Dr. Weir looks at Sheppard, Ronon then Beckett before sighing and going to the other side of the bed. She places her hand on Jax’s, but the younger woman pulls away, scratching at her forehead. Dr. Weir raises her brows. “I’d like you to see to Dr. Heightmeyer.”

          “They’re caffeine tabs. I didn’t try to kill myself.”

          “No one’s saying you did,” Sheppard’s grin falters.

          “Nevertheless,” Dr. Weir says. “I want you to see her.”

          “Fine.”

          The answer came too quickly and easily for Ronon to buy, let alone Dr. Weir. Her eyes narrow and that one brow arches in suspicion. “And talk to her.”

          Jax catches Dr. Weir’s gaze. “I can’t do that.”

          “Yes, you can.”

          Jax keeps her eyes and voice steady. “No.”

          Ronon, Sheppard, and Beckett all shuffle uncomfortably in the presence of two opposed, but equally strong-willed women. Dr. Weir may be the boss, but Jax is not one to back down, as they all witnessed last night. The women stare at each other for a long moment and it is Dr. Weir who finally breaks the hold. She looks to Beckett. “How is she?”

          “I’ll need to keep her here for another day at least.”

          “What!” Jax complains. “I’ve got better things–”

          “Good,” Dr. Weir interrupts. She smiles at Jax. “I’ll send Dr. Heightmeyer to you.”

          “Won’t help,” Jax says sourly.

          Dr. Weir bristles. “Look, I’m not–”

          “Delta-Omega-Delta 64355.” Jax says, locking onto Dr. Weir’s gaze again.

          Ronon has never seen the Atlantis leader flustered before, but this clearly does it. Whatever the term means, it leaves Dr. Weir speechless. She crosses her arms, and sniffs, raising her chin. Then, without breaking contact with Jax, she says: “Gentlemen. Please leave.”

          “Elizabeth…”

          She turns sharply to Sheppard. “Now.”

          Sheppard nods. “Yes, ma’am.” He motions to Ronon and Beckett and they follow him into the corridor. The door closes.

          “What the heck is Delta-Omega-Delta 64355?” Beckett asks as soon as they are alone.

          Sheppard leans against the wall. “DOD… Department of Defense. Which leaves one thing: Classified.”

          Ronon looks at him. “Her brother.”

          Sheppard nods. “Or the feds. Maybe it was part of the deal to pull her out of protection to save his life.”

          “What are you two babbling about?”

          “Sorry Carson. Wouldn’t tell you even if I knew for certain.”

          “Well, that’s just bloody lovely. How am I supposed to care for–”

          Dr. Weir coming out of the infirmary cuts off Beckett’s rant. She smiles at all of them; her eyes slightly moist. “Colonel,” she sniffs and rubs a knuckle under the corner of one eye. “I’d appreciate it if your team could complete that mission I requested.”

          “Really?”

          She nods, still smiling. “But remember. It’s still a secret.” Her eyes shift to the side as if she is about to look over her shoulder but decides not to. “From everyone.”

          Sheppard makes a face and shrugs his shoulders. “Okay then.” He slaps Ronon’s back “You up for it?”

          Ronon cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders. “Yes.”

          Sheppard taps his headset. “Teyla, McKay. Prepare for departure in one hour. We have a mission.”

          Dr. Weir’s smile grows and her green eyes sparkle. “Thank you.”

          Sheppard bows his head. “You know me. Always hoping to increase morale.”

          Ronon grunts. It is more likely Sheppard will do anything to make Dr. Weir happy.


	13. Chapter 13

  **~ TH** **ESIS ~**      

          Ronon opens his door, knowing she waits on the other side. With thumbs bouncing off each other, she pulls at the hem of her shirt; her gaze darts around the corridor avoiding his. “Jax.”

          “Ronon.”

          She does not meet his eyes. He has come to expect—and appreciate—her defiant, challenging stare. After three days of not seeing it, he wishes she would stop being skittish. Crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame he side-nods toward his room. “Would you like to come in?”

          “No.”

          He did not expect she would but wanted to be polite considering how she spent her last three days—and nights—alone.

          Before his team returned from that first mission searching for Dr. Weir’s frozen lake, Beckett found it necessary to sedate and restrain Jax in the infirmary again. They scouted seven planets that day. Ronon went to the infirmary to see her, but Sheppard ordered him not to stay the night since Jax was already unconscious. The next day his team had two scheduled missions: The first netted an unknown, empty forest planet—possibly a second evac-site since the gate is on the planet—the second something for the archeologists to drool over, McKay noted. The day after that, they had a mission Sheppard again called a ‘cakewalk’ that sent them hurtling back to the gate under threat of spears and arrows. Ronon has had his fill of arrows.

          Following the second night in the infirmary, Dr. Weir confined Jax to quarters under ‘conditional lock-down’ having her door locked from the outside and a guard posted. Prior to that, Beckett searched her room for stimulants; he confiscated three full boxes of caffeine pills.

          The rumors started right away—Ronon now understands Sheppard’s dislike of them. Many have speculated Jax tried to kill herself with drugs from Earth or that she went crazy experimenting with drugs she found in Pegasus; though she has not left The City since she arrived with the expedition. Several others suggested she had an allergic reaction to some of the Athosian food. Ronon has yet to hear anyone speak close to the truth.

          “I… I wa–” Her gaze bounces from the floor to him then away. She looks down the corridor as she talks to him, forcing control over her voice. “I wanted to thank you. Dr. Beckett told me how you and Col. Sheppard took care of me. That… I would have died… if you hadn’t found me. When you did.”

          “Do not mention it.”

          Her eyes snap to his momentarily and Ronon glimpses the wounded warrior inside, too soon she drops her gaze to her fidgeting hands. “Okay then.” As she shuffles down the hall, he sees a small, red bag hanging from her shoulder.

          Ronon leans out his door. “Jax.” She stops but does not turn around. “Tell me about Ryan.”

          Her head hangs and her shoulders slouch. She rolls her shoulders back and lifts her head, turns gracefully and glides back over, nailing him with hard, shielded eyes; as if she flipped a switch, her security walls are back in place. “I’m going to practice. If you want information, I will supply it. Once. Afterward, you must tell me about Nally. Then we will never speak of either again.”

          “Deal.” He follows her down the corridor to the nearest transporter.

* § *

          The room remains undisturbed since their first real meeting; reminding Ronon that no one is supposed to be in this section of The City. Three human shaped targets still hang in place on an insulated wall perfect for collecting bullet rounds. Ronon wonders if the Ancestors used this room for a similar purpose.

          Jax opens her red bag and pulls out the 9mm and three extra clips. She looks too delicate for such a large gun, but he has already seen her proficiency with it. And her sleek body of muscle can handle any recoil, he is sure. “Does Col. Sheppard not notice this missing?”

          “It’s mine.”

          “They let civilians bring personal artillery?”

          She shoves on the goggles, clicks off the safety and takes aim. “They let _me_.” Seven rounds hit the first target in center mass almost on top of each other; disintegrating the paper much like his weapon would. Jax cocks her head, reflecting on her work. Then she drops her left hand from the gun, turns her stance so her body falls into a straight line and takes aim again. “Wanna know how he died?” One shot hits the middle of the forehead. “Hi-powered rifle, long range. Professional.”

          Jax clicks on the safety and sets the gun on the table. “ _Why_ he died. You’re looking at her. Why they all die.”

          “Because of what you saw.”

          “No.” She pulls four daggers from the bag, sliding them out of hard black sheaths. She takes up position in front of the second silhouette. The first knife flies faster than he can see. It ‘whisps’ through the air and slices the thick paper target with a ‘ffltt’, then a soft ‘whump’ as it lodges into the wall. “Because.”

          She throws the second knife with the same strength and precision. “I.”

          Third knife flies and sticks. “Lived.”

          Still holding the fourth knife, she faces him, twirling it in her hand as skillfully as Teyla. “You won’t understand this but I will give it a shot. On Earth, there are these things called banks where people keep and get money. We use it instead of trade.” Ronon nods, Sheppard explained this before. “Eight years ago, my parents were trying to get a loan to help me. I needed money for something special… for my dream to happen and they were willing to put their house on the line for their 1998 Olympic hopeful.” Her eyes harden. “These four guys came in, wearing masks, carrying guns. Everyone knows you get down, shut up and let them do what they want so you don’t die.”

          “And you did not.”

          “Of course I did. I may be a bitch, but I’m not an idiot. The problem was… I caught sight of one of the men. Saw his eyes and… I recognized him.”

          “How?”

          She huffs. “He was my boyfriend, Tony.” The fourth knife whips from her hand, whooshing through the air, tacking the paper target to the wall with the dagger in the center of the face. She turns back to Ronon. “He also happened to be a cop… along with his other robbing buddies. “Apparently they’d been at it a while. They had the feds stumped because they were Robbery/Homicide cops. They investigated their own crimes. And silly girl that I am, I got good looks at all of their eyes. For someone else,” she shrugs, “wouldn’t have been an issue. Except I knew I’d seen them all before. Tony had them over for a barbeque a couple months before. He introduced me to them. Dumbass.” Jax shakes her head. “I recognized each one even with a mask on. And when they saw me, they knew I knew. Craig—Tony’s partner—shot my parents right in front of me,” tears well up in her eyes. “Just to be a dick.” She sniffs and blinks the tears away. “Then Tony came up to me, whispered in my ear and shot me point blank in the chest.” Her hand slaps the spot where the scar should be. “He was a shittier cop than boyfriend. He couldn’t even hit the mark at close range.

          “I lived. Just barely. And the Federal D.A.—a real douchebag—ordered me to testify or go to jail as a co-conspirator.” Ronon is shocked by that and Jax grins, a steely glint in her eyes. “Told you Earthlings suck,” she snarls. “I was ready to make sure they all fried. Hell, I was willing to flip the switch myself… still would today, given the chance. But DA Douchebag got off on threatening me—while I lay in my hospital bed. He said he’d tell a jury I had Tony kill my parents so I could get their insurance money. They had double indemnity.” Off Ronon’s look, she adds: “Their murders doubled the payout on their life insurance policies, which were already substantial. And my uncle Tank—that’s what I called him when I was a kid because I couldn’t say Frank.” The happy memory softens her for a moment. She shakes it off with a roll of her shoulders. “He sued the bank on my behalf and since they’re a national chain, they settled out of court real fast. He tried to sue the police department… so far it’s still in the paper stage. It’ll never go to trial or be settled I’m sure. Doesn’t matter. It all made me very rich, more money than I could spend in three lifetimes.”

          She speaks softly, to herself: “I’d give it all away just for one more moment with my folks.” As she walks away from him, she grabs three new targets and replacing the used ones.

          “It didn’t matter to DA Douchebag that I was on the operating table three times in two days; that I actually died twice and was revived by the best surgeon _ever_. He just wanted a conviction because he was running for office again. So, once I successfully picked all four assholes out of four different line-ups—everyone wearing the same masks by the way—I’m put in front of the grand jury and they go to trial.

          “Usually a witness under protection is watched over by marshals for the duration, not the FBI. But because the whole thing dealt with dirty cops, the FBI wasn’t taking any chances. They assigned Ryan to protect me. Wherever I went, he went. The other agents routinely changed based on where in the states they hid me, but he stayed. They called him my handler. Kinda reserved and quiet, but really nice. And just plain gorgeous. That poor guy…” her voice wavers. “He should have been a model, an actor… Gawd, anything but attached to me.”

          She turns away from Ronon with a sniff. A deep breath later and she is back on topic, her voice steady. “Lots of fighting skills and a kick-ass gin player. It took two years for the first trial, which got a hung jury—someone was paid off, or threatened, no doubt. We had them cold. Another three years before the second went to the jury. All the while I’m getting new names, new cities. They even took my dog away because he could be traced.”

          Ronon is going to ask what that means but thinks better of it. She is willing to talk, which is what Sheppard wants. After they found out Beckett had to sedate and restrain her for the second night, Sheppard ordered Ronon to be nice to Jax. Get her to open up if he could. And since Ronon is not from Earth, there would not be any ‘security clearance’ issues blocking him. Sheppard is sure she will get past her demons if she can “clear the air”.

          He called it PTSD and tried to explain what that meant, then waved his hand and said, “Never mind.”

          “They wouldn’t let me do anything I used to,” Jax continues. “Had to give up everything, my friends, my job… I couldn’t even go shopping and, unlike most women, I _hate_ shopping but the minute I couldn’t do it, I wanted to with a passion. Couldn’t go anywhere without three agents watching me. I couldn’t use a public restroom unless it was cleared out first.” She shakes her head. “I spent most of my time in my different bedrooms, in the dark because ‘open windows are not safe’. It’s not that the agents weren’t friendly. They were professional. They knew better than to get attached ‘cause at any minute I could get killed. Or worse, they could take a bullet because of me.”

          “But the men were imprisoned?”

          “Yeah, nailed ‘em. Death penalty. Unfortunately, even if it doesn’t get reversed or lessened, they could still outlive me.”

          “What? Why?”

          “Politics, petitioners… a whole shitload of reasons they won’t get zapped.” She sniggers. “Plus… you do _not_ rat on the police anywhere. Ever. Because cops have friends. And bad cops… have even worse friends. Ryan let me use his laptop once. I was on it for hours.” She swallows hard. “Looked up some of my friends online… using a fake name of course.” She licks her lips. “Turns out… my best friend since 6th grade,” the tears appear quickly this time and drip down her cheeks. “Had a mysterious car-jacking two days after I testified for the grand jury.” Her eyes lock onto his. “Shot in the head. Once.”

          “Just like Ryan?”

          She hangs her head, squeezes eyes shut, letting the tears stream down. Ronon would never have thought she could show such emotion while conscious. “He was a great guy. A good friend. Brought me books, every genre and subject. He knew that once I read something, I learn it. So, he became my guinea pig for haircuts, massages, exercises. He rented the movies I liked. Listened to the same music.” She licks her lips, catching a teardrop on her tongue. “He secretly took me ice skating once. He knew how much I missed it. Somehow, he got us into a rink after it closed. I had the ice to myself. He even managed to get the sound system running so I had my music. I’d like to think he enjoyed watching me skate.”

          She lifts the gun and takes aim at the target. “After the first year of sitting on my ass, I asked him to train me in weapons and defensive tactics. He said I was a natural. Great hand-eye coordination.” She fires off six rounds. “One day about two years ago, we get this urgent message and I’m shuffled off to the nearest military base. Next thing I know… I’ve got an older brother. Major Charles Montgomery, US Air Force.” She grins at Ronon. “We had the same father, but my dad never knew about him. Anyway, he was sick and I had nothing better to do, so I ponied up the bone marrow, easy as you please. He got better and we lived happily ever after. For about sixteen months.”

          Ronon waits as she fires off two more rounds at the target then switches clips. “They kept it all hushed-up about the donor thing. The military likes keeping secrets when it comes to their soldiers getting sick. So, I was set up in an apartment and we were allowed to see each other, get to know each other.” She giggles and Ronon thinks he has never heard anything so beautiful. “Oh, God. His fiancé was the best! I loved her so much! We talked for hours about nothing… and everything. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having a girlfriend… a best friend. She even tried to play matchmaker. She knew I had a monster crush on Ryan. Not that I would ever do anything about it, I wasn’t going to screw that up. But Lily could be pushy—in a good way—and she swore he felt the same way about me.”

          “Did he?”

          Jax looks down at the weapon and a tear hits her hand. “I don’t know. I can only hope he knew how I felt and was happy about it. We were at a 4th of July picnic, living a normal life again. Lily has a huge family. Ryan was smiling…” She sniffs, rubs her arm across her eyes, then shakes her head and takes a deep breath that quakes through her body. “They killed him as I handed him a soda.”

          After a moment, she catches Ronon’s gaze, that heartless smile returns. “See… I’m no good to them dead. Not now.” She takes aim on the last target and fires until the gun is empty. Ronon gently pulls the weapon from her hand and sets it on the table. Jax goes to the targets and yanks them down one at a time. “After that, I declined protection. Why bother, they could obviously find me when and where they wanted. I’d had enough. Charlie backed me, even though he knew he was at more risk than me. But the military didn’t like one of their best being in danger that they didn’t put him in, so, off to Spain he’s whisked.”

          She pulls the knives from the wall. Sighing, she slips the knives into the sheaths then shoves everything into the red bag. “But he wanted me to be safe. He made a deal with General O’Neill—he’s an Air Force bigwig, a nice guy once you get passed his gruffness—got me on the short list for Atlantis.” She catches his gaze again. “The end.”

          Ronon does not know what to do. He wants to wrap his arms around her and hug her close, but at the same time, he thinks asking her for permission would be a bad idea. He has several questions, mostly because he does not understand some of the terms she used. He understands the story as a whole. Basically, she has been hunted for sport, but if they actually killed her, the game would end, so they take what she loves instead, punishing her over and over, trying to break her.

          For once, Ronon has more hatred for someone other than the Wraith. “Are they dead now? The men?”

          “No. They went to prison. Frank and Tony are on death row, but that doesn’t really matter.” She looks at him again, her eyes glowing with vengeance. “But considering prisoners hate cops… that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” She raises her brow. “Tony was a pretty boy. He must have many intimate friends by now.”

          “What did he whisper to you? Before he…” Ronon motions to her chest.

          She huffs, shaking her head with annoyance. “Basically, he told me I was no good in bed. He was more… crude about it.”

          “I would like to hurt this man.”

          She wrinkles her brows. “It is not like he was right. I’ve got wicked skills.” She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. “Then again… kinda out of practice. And if you don’t use it, you lose it… so, maybe by now, he’s right.” She speaks so matter-of-factly, Ronon wonders if they are talking about the same subject. “Any more questions?”

          Ronon thinks for a moment when one comes to mind, but he is wondering how to ask it without making her aim the gun at him. “Why ‘Jax’ and not the first name?”

          “They forced Maggie on me. Never liked that name… hated a girl in grade school. That was her name.”

          “And ‘Jax’?”

          She closes her eyes again and that soft smile appears briefly as she says: “I know it's silly, but... Ryan Jackson McGruder. Jax fit better than Mac.” She opens her eyes and a fresh tear drips from her lashes. She packs up her bag and heads for the door. “Time for my prison cell.”

          “Jax? What is… massages?”

          This stops her and she slowly turns on her toes and faces him. Her brows raised high on her face, mouth open slightly. She cocks her head and pulls in her upper lip with her teeth then wrinkles her brow. After a long moment of staring at him, she says, “Come to my room tonight.” Then she turns and leaves.


	14. Chapter 14

** **

** ~ PACT ~ **

          When Ronon arrives at Jax’s quarters after dinner, he hears the music coming from within her room, though it is not as loud as usual... not even shaking her door let alone the corridor. His old shadow stands guard outside the door. Apparently, this guy is on Sheppard's ‘shit-list’ because all he ever does is stand guard for people who really don’t need it. Very boring. 

[I'll Remember by Madonna](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1iwIlAmvbgUhsrld8YxdEdqGzx4wU_1Ab/view?usp=sharing)

          The sergeant smirks at Ronon. “So, the suicide thing works for you, huh?”

          “What?!”

          He lifts his chin at Jax’s door. “Her little cry for help. It reeled you in.”

          “What’s that, Sergeant?” Sheppard calls, strolling down the opposite corridor. He gets in the man’s face. “Did I hear you spouting an unsubstantiated rumor?”

          The soldier blanches. “Yes, sir. Sorry. Sir.”

          “I suggest you stifle any notions you have about spreading any more. And should you hear any, you will dismiss them immediately. Do you understand?”

          “Yes, sir!” The sergeant salutes. Now, Ronon understands why this guy doesn’t get more to do. 

          Sheppard turns sharply from the man and pulls Ronon aside. “So? What did you find out?”

          “Everything.” Sheppard raises his brows, waiting. Ronon shakes his head. “You know I cannot tell you. You do not have… what did you call it? Security clearance.”

          Sheppard rolls his eyes and bares his teeth. “Crap. Since when do you listen to me?”

          Ronon grins, slapping the Colonel on the shoulder. “Always… sir.” He steps away then turns back and whispers. “What she has lived through… would have broken many men.”

          Sheppard bites his bottom lip, nodding in understanding. Ronon goes back to Jax’s door and the sergeant unlocks it with a hand-swipe over the lighted panel.

          Jax waits as the door slides open, hands on her hips, brows raised. “It may look like it, but I really don’t have all night.” With a grimace, she adds: “I have to keep my strength up for all my fun-filled sleep hours.” He catches the briefest glimmer of fear in her eyes then it is gone and the shield returns. “Now,” she moves aside and points to the towel covered mattress. “Get your ass over there, sit down, shut up and take off your shirt.” She grins at the call-back to their first meeting in the infirmary. There is real humor in her smile and it lightens Ronon’s heart. He remembers wanting to shoot her that day. Now, all he thinks about is hearing her laugh again.

          “Wanted to get me naked again, hmm?” He strips off his shirt and flexes his muscles.

          “Relax, Tarzan,” she sighs, glancing out the open door: Sheppard walks away, shaking his head, clearly amused. “You’re not my type.”

          She orders him to lay face down on the low, slim bed with his head nearest the door and his feet to the wall. All the rooms are standard sizes, meant only for sleeping not entertaining but this one feels smaller than his or Teyla’s. The lack of personal items strikes him: no trinkets or pictures of loved ones, bare walls and floor. Perhaps they are hidden away in the wardrobe by the bathroom, but he doubts it. The desk and chair next to the hued-glass window hold only the laptop everyone else uses. Even the computer’s ‘screen saver’ is the standard Pegasus symbol.

          Like the sparse room, Jax’s attire differs from other civilians in the city. When she is not wearing the gray utility of the kitchen staff, she wears dark hues, mostly black or blue… with the exception of the filmy rainbow skirt while she dances. No metal chains or finger jewels adorn her as some of the women and men here. She does not call attention to herself. This must be an extension of her previous life… when everything was taken away.

          She aims a wicked sneer at the sergeant. “You gonna watch?” He grunts and closes the door.  Jax shakes her head. “Those guys are no fun.”

          The music changes to something without words.

 

[Ronon's Massage](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wHIxITc-XPEVYx1OWDWkCb06_lqwI5-f/view?usp=sharing)

          Ronon lies down as she instructed, resting his cheek on the back of his hand as he looks at her. “I thought you liked Col. Sheppard.”

          “Sheppard isn’t one of them.” She pulls a pillow off the chair and drops it to the floor, then grabs a bottle from her desk before kneeling by his side. The low bed gives her plenty of room to maneuver.

          With a fierce shake, a thick, clear green gel sputters from the bottle into her palm. Ronon likes the somewhat tangy-floral scent… not too feminine. “What is that?”

          “Tea Tree Gel. Very soothing. Sorry, I don’t have any massage oils.” Setting both hands on his lower back just above his trousers, a thumb on either side of his spine, she presses gently, slowly pushing her hands up his back. The slick gel cools his skin, contrasting with her firm, warm hands. She pushes all the way up his back, staying near his spine until she reaches his neck, careful around the scar from the tracking device.

          Given what happened the last time she made him relax, Ronon does his best to keep his eyes open. But as her hands move along his flesh with such precision and the music calms his blood, he finds it difficult to stay alert. As if she is drugging him with her touch, his senses lose hold. He starts to drift; the gel’s scent sending him off to the many planets he ran through over the years. So many sights and smells he never thought stayed with him. But here they are, trapped in his mind. Some days were easier than others. Once in a long while, he would find a lonely planet full of animals and blooming plants. He would set up camp in a canopy of trees or find a vacant cave. He once shared a little den behind a waterfall with a surprisingly gentle but rather pungent _Ra’eb_. Even the powerful spray of water could not clean that creature’s thick coat.

          Ronon shakes off the thoughts. Recalling these places will only lead him to remember his times fighting the Wraith. He does not want a repeat of the last time he scared her.

          The power she wields through her hands is amazing. She could drive a man insane if she put these skills to use during other… activities.

          Ronon’s gut flips at the thought. He does not understand his reaction to this woman. He is not unaffected by her; clearly, Jax is everything a man could or should want: deadly fighting skills entwined with ethereal beauty and the grace of an angel when she moves. He wants to hear her laugh. He wants to bring that shield of hers crashing down. Yet, he is not attracted to her physically; not for a distracting evening or long-term romance. Considering how she looks at the Colonel it is probably a good thing. Ronon has a healthy ego, but even he could take a beating losing a woman to Sheppard—especially since the man is not even competing. Sheppard’s eyes (and heart) fall elsewhere, even if he refuses to admit it. “Why did you say that?”

          “Say what?” she asks.

          “Sheppard is not one of them.”

          “Because he’s not. Most of the soldiers have a stick up their butt about something. Sheppard’s easy going… but can be a hard-ass when necessary. He’s… different.” There is a smile in her voice.

          “Is that why you want him?” She moves to the other side of the bed, gently pulls his arm down so that it lays by his side. He turns to watch her, resting his cheek on the bed, his other arm dangling to the side. She blushes. “Jax?”

          Strong fingers ply into the muscles of his shoulder, moving in circles, releasing tension he did not know he had. He feels something pop, not painfully or unpleasant even. She works that area until the pop is vanquished then moves on. “Who says I want him?”

          “I do. And that smile you save only for him tells me all I need to know.” He likes teasing her this way. That blush is adorable.

          “I don’t smile.”

          “You do for him. Quite sweet.”

          She huffs in amusement. “Jealous?”

          “No. I have a secret.”

          She moves around the bed again, this time working on his left shoulder. “No doubt you have many secrets, Specialist Ronon Dex.”

          “This is a big one.”

          “Really?” She presses firmly into his shoulder blade, finding the pop and working it into silence. “What’s your secret?”

          “I will tell you. If you tell me why you want him.”

          She sighs. “I don’t want to start more rumors.” She shakes her head. “It’s hard enough being here as is.”

          “No rumors. Just you and me.” After a moment, he lifts his head and catches her gaze. “Trust me.” The fear returns to her dark gaze then instantly retreats, followed by a tiny twitch of her upper lip. “I already know about his eyes.”

          Her fingers stop moving and she sucks in a quick breath. “H… how do you…?”

          “You said it. In the mess.” He rolls a bit, propping his head on his hand. “Is that the reason? Because he reminds you–”

          She holds up a hand. “Never mentioned again.” Ronon nods. She rolls her shoulders, twists her neck from side to side. “And no. I just have a thing for hazel eyes.” Her puckers her lips as she thinks. “It’s not the same.”

          “What do you mean?”

          Another sigh, then her eyes gleam with something he has not seen before. “We were all in the gate room on Earth and in strolls this amazingly hot guy... I mean, scorch the eyeballs _hot_. And every woman there felt the temp rise by a hundred degrees.” She smiles at the memory. “He’s given these dirty looks by Col. Stick-Up-His-Butt Sumner and then this guy grins this cocky, sexy… unbelievably…”

          “Hot?”

          “Yes!” Her smile grows. “And there are these dimples from heaven.”

          Ronon sees the blush rising in her neck. She clears her throat. “And I remember thinking: that’s it, that’s what all the hub-bub is about. Love at first sight, or lust… whatever. Stick a fork in me.”

          “Why would I do that?”

          She laughs and Ronon’s heart pounds. He never heard her laugh like that before, deep in the gut. Makes him want to laugh too. “It’s one of those colloquial things. An Earth saying. It means I felt I was done looking for Mr. Right because Mr. Perfect had arrived… without ever knowing it.” She looks at him, that ice wall in place, that defiant brow arching. “And he never will.” He drops his arm and his gaze. “Ronon?”

          “Not my fault.”

          “What’s ‘not your fault’?”

          He hesitates a moment too long. She grabs his hair at the nape of his neck and pulls his head up, forcing him to look at her. Ronon growls, baring his teeth, but as usual, she does not back down. And that is what makes her so special. “He knows.”

          She releases him without warning and his forehead smacks his hand on the bed. She makes a strange noise, a cross between a growl and a pain-filled groan. “Did I babble in my delirium?”

          “Not exactly.”

          She sits on his ass and drops her face into her hands. “Then what exactly?”

          “I may have let it slip.”

          She drops one knee on either side of his waist and presses both thumbs into a tender spot on his lower back. “What did you say?” He chuckles. “Ronon?”

          “Nothing really. But the man managed to figure it out… after some time.” Apparently, that is not enough of an answer for her and she slowly increases the pressure on his back until an icy pain shoots down both his legs. Ronon jerks up to smack her but the pain paralyzes him all over. “What are you doing? STOP!”

          “Tell me _exactly_ what you said.”

          His eyes roll back and a tear escapes. He cannot move his legs. “I said… you were taken. By someone who does not see you.”

          The pressure eases up. “Is that it?”

          “I might have mentioned you like being invisible.”

          The pressure and pain disappear. Her hands are on his back again, soothing and relaxing. “Good boy.”

          “Where did you learn that?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at her.

          “I read it in a book once.”

          “What book?”

          She flashes the wicked grin. “Torture techniques by the CIA.”

          “CIA?”

          “Hmm… human version of the Wraith… no, wait… that would be the IRS.” She stays on the bed and starts massaging his back again. “Guess they’re just more of the suckiness that is Earthlings.”

          Ronon wrinkles his brow. He may have gotten Jax to open up, but clearly, he has not learned everything about her yet. And he may not get the chance. “You ever do that again… I _will_ shoot you.”

          Jax climbs off of him, her smile bigger than ever and she slaps his ass. “I trust you would.” She grabs the bottle and squeezes more gel into her hands. “Scooch forward. Drop your arms and let your head hang over the bed a bit.” He does as she says and then she sits on the bed next to him. She lifts his hair and her fingers work into his spine again, this time at his neck. “I _so_ need a real massage table.” After a moment of working his neck: “What is your secret, Ronon?”

          “Oh…” he lifts his head so he can look at her. “You are not my type either.” He grins.

          Jax sneers at him then slaps his rear hard. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

          “Teyla and McKay are going at it in a closet somewhere as we speak.”

          “No!” she gasps.

          “Probably not. But wouldn’t it be terrifying if it was true?”

          Jax laughs again and Ronon loves every moment of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ronon's Massage music: Somewhere in Time Movie track 8 (Return to the Present)


	15. Chapter 15

** ~ FISSURE ~ **

          Returning from Belkan, Ronon and Teyla walk through the Stargate, handing off the parcels of flaxseed to waiting soldiers. Over the noise of the gate, Dr. Weir’s voice echoes from her glass-walled office. Upstairs McKay is getting an intense verbal lashing; seems he managed to blow something up, again; something big enough to put Dr. Weir into a serious rage. Ronon hopes he is not put in charge of clean up this time.

          Teyla’s curt nod with cool eyes and chin held tight and high as she walks away from him remind Ronon that he too is ‘in the doghouse’ as Sheppard likes to say. Yes, he used her to get access to Kel via her Belkan contacts. Ronon regrets hurting her feelings but does not regret enacting deserved justice.

          She warned him not to tell the others what he did to Kel, but on leaving the central tower, he heads straight for Jax’s room. Disappointment washes over him when she does not answer.

          Hanging his head, he changes direction for his quarters. He needs to bathe anyway; taking a long, hot shower; washing away the night of drinking with his long, lost friend Solan but also the rage he felt seeing Kel again.

          The traitor got better than he deserved.

          The bell chimes as Ronon snaps closed his utilities. Opening the door, he moves aside as a disturbed Sheppard gets shoved from behind by Jax. “Mind if I…” the Colonel stumbles a bit. “We…come in?”

          Jax glances over her shoulder and the door shuts without her hand on the control. Her ability with The City still fascinates him. “That was close.”

          “What?” Ronon pulls on his shirt.

          Sheppard shoves his hands in his pockets, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Oh…I’m…”

          “He’s hiding,” Jax says with a smirk. She nudges Sheppard in the arm. “You’re safe here. He’s afraid of Ronon.”

          Ronon crosses his arms. “Who?”

          “McKay,” Jax grins.

          “Really?” Ronon raises his brow at Sheppard, who shrugs, then his gaze lands on Jax. Over the past couple of weeks, he has seen subtle changes in her: more energetic; her eyes have a gleam to them, and her shyness around Sheppard lessened. Mostly, though, she laughs more easily when she and Ronon are together. Not a lot, but enough for now. Otherwise, she remains the same tough, do-not-touch-me woman he met months ago. But he likes the changes. “Something I should be concerned about?” Ronon asks.

          Sheppard plops into the desk chair and makes a face. “Not so much. McKay just…blew up a solar system.”

          Jax shakes her head. “Silly man.” Sheppard cuts his eyes to her, his expression mingling amusement and shock.

          “Really?” Ronon’s brows shoot up. “I figured it was more like one of those labs he always talks about.”

          The Colonel bites his lip. “I was kinda there…”

          Jax jerks her thumb at Sheppard. “He helped.”

          The Colonel’s defensive gaze darts between the two then lands on Ronon. “Because he swore to me he could do it.”

          “Blow up a solar system?”

          “No,” he scowls. “Make the weapon work.”

          “Did he?”

          “Yeah…but-”

          “A bit too well, I’d say.” Jax grins at Sheppard’s embarrassment; enjoying his predicament a little too much.

          Sheppard scratches his head. “Eliz…Dr. Weir’s pissed at both of us.”

          Ronon nods, understanding. “Ahh.”

          Jax claps her hands together. “Looks like I’m not the top of her shit-list anymore. Yes!” Her grin grows and she sticks her tongue between her teeth. “What?” She looks between the two men. “I can’t be happy that I’m not the only screw-up around here?” She scoffs. “I got too wired on caffeine… not make a whole lotta planets go boom.” She winks and taps the side of her head. “Keeps things in perspective.”

          Sheppard rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. “How was Belkan?”

          “Hot.”

          “Hmm,” Jax says, watching him with mischief in her gaze.

          “What?”

          She shrugs, raises that arched brow. “Well…you stayed overnight…with Teyla.”

          Sheppard narrows his eyes at Ronon. “Anything _I_ should be concerned about?”

          Ronon glares at Jax. “No.”

          Sheppard claps his hands as he gets up. “Good. Wouldn’t want anything to muss up the works.” He checks his watch— “that should do it” —and goes to the door.

          “You’re welcome,” Jax says. She may be easing around him, but she still does not meet Sheppard’s gaze as he smiles at her.

          He bows slightly. “Thank you, milady.” Opening the door, he slips into the hallway.

          As the door closes, Ronon clearly makes out McKay calling to the Colonel. Jax laughs silently, shaking her head. “Another silly man.” She claps her hands once. “I have news.”

          “What?”

          “Remember I mentioned I needed a real massage table?” Ronon nods and she grins. “I’m getting three. When the Daedalus returns. Dr. Beckett put in the request. Plus…since my classes are no more…”

          “Classes?”

          She makes a face. “Seems some of the ladies of Atlantis are uncomfortable being around me now… since my unfortunate…mmm.” She nods as she says, “overdose.” Then she shrugs, not showing the slightest amount of insult. “Maddog was willing to take over. She wanted me to stay but then that would have left only her and Cadman with me. This way at least it gets Sheppard off my back. You know, the whole ‘dance show’ thingy. Well, anyway. Since I now have one less activity to distract me, Dr. Beckett wants me to teach massage therapy to a couple of the nurses and any volunteers.” She grins again, moving closer. “Wanna volunteer?”

          Ronon wrinkles his brow and backs up a step. “No.”

          “Party pooper.” She cocks her head. “You do realize you are pretty much the only person who talks to me these days. Without the usual preamble of the ‘pity-stare’ or the awkward glances for a quick get-a-way.”

          “I…did not know.”

          She shrugs again. “No biggie. You know me…” She grins. “Actually. You _do_ know me.” A soft chuckle. “You’re the one person who does.”

          “What about Dr. Weir?”

          “She knows my code. It’s a military thing from the Stargate Command. Means she’s stuck with me…no matter what.”

          “You cannot go home.”

          She blinks then stares at him with wide eyes. “I am home.” Studying him for a moment, she lifts her chin then steps closer. Her eyes burrow into his. “What happened?”

          “What are you talking about?”

          “I saw your face when Sheppard mentioned Belkan. And when I said Teyla… ahh—there you go.”

          “What?”

          “Your eye twitched.”

          “Did not.” She raises her brow again, staring at him, willing him into speech. It works. “I found out something.”

          “Okay.”

          “There are survivors from Sateda.”

          “Your world?” The smile glitters in her eyes. “That’s wonderful. How many?”

          “Maybe 300.”

          Before he knows it, her arms wrap around him, giving him a tremendous hug. “OhmyGawd! I’m so happy for you.” Before he can react, she breaks away. “Sorry. I didn’t…” She backs into the wall. “Sorry.”

          “Jax,” he catches her eyes. “It is fine.” Ronon sits on the bed, watching her carefully. She flashes a smile, but stays near the wall, almost to the door, crossing her arms around her protectively.

          After some silence, she tilts her head again and catches his gaze full on. “There’s something else.”

          “No.”

          “You’re not as happy as you should be. What happened with Teyla?”

          Teyla warned him but Ronon wants to tell Jax. He wants to know that _she_ understands. So, he tells her how he shot Kel in cold blood.

          She stays quiet for a long time, just watching him with those hard to read eyes; her face as blank as usual. Then: “I’d be mad too.” His heart sinks and he drops his gaze to the floor. She steps over to him. “Did he deserve it?”

          “He deserved worse.”

          She sits on the bed next to him, her shoulder against his arm. “Too bad you couldn’t have taken your time.”

          Ronon looks down at her, seeing that darkness in her eyes, the rage he knows too well. “Teyla said you would not understand.”

          “Me? Or Earthlings in general.”

          He motions with his hand. “Everyone.”

          Jax nods. “She’s probably right.” That brow again. “Then again…most of them have never known betrayal or true evil.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Ronon?”

          “Yes.”

          “Could I give you a hug?”

          Ronon nods, not sure he can talk around the lump in his throat. Her arms wrap around his middle again and she rests her head against his chest. Ronon dares to drape his arm across her shoulders. She does not flinch or flee.

          Subtle fractures in her shield.

          Wonderful changes.


	16. Chapter 16

** ~ PONDER ~ **

          Labeling her hostile on a bad day would be an understatement; strong-willed, opinionated and obstinate on a good day is far more accurate. But, she is down-right amazing when doing something she likes. And surprisingly enough, Jax likes teaching!

          The subject does not matter; only sharing skills and information. He remembers her dancing instructions and the pleasure her students took in the lesson he witnessed. He enjoys her stories about Earth, the American culture—the ‘US of A’ specifically—and what she knows about other Earth cultures; sternly warning him she only learned it from books, and that “history is written by the winners”. She can recall any book she has read; some she really wishes she could forget. Fiction novels play inside her mind like ‘little movies’ and she speaks of them with zest. Aside from card games, television and movies, she really likes instructing him in American grammar, specifically using ‘contractions’ and ‘colloquialism’. It gets a bit tiring, but she swears he will learn to love using fewer words and spitting sarcasm at McKay.

          Ronon shakes his head and laughs inside when she says these things.

          He enjoys _her_.

          Though they have had years of intense study to become licensed nurses, her three massage students hang on every word, awed by her knowledge of the human body and technical skills; one of the students asked: “And you’re not a doctor because…?” And with every compliment she doles out, they look expectant, like waiting for pats on the head.

          Reminiscent of her dance teachings, her energetic style and step-by-step instructions keep their attention. If she aired music in the room where she instructs these classes, she would float here too. Jax dances through life, though she doesn’t know it.

          The nurses—one man and two women—know of her infirmary visit, witnessed her nightmares but hold no judgments. They are kind and know better than to mention what happened, making it easier for Jax to relax with them. Still, she’s wearing a new mask, a pleasant one specifically for interacting with others besides him.

_Is this the true Angela prior to all the horror she lived?_ She smiles easily, laughs and jokes with them as if they have been friends for years. But the smiles do not touch her eyes—the hard, thick ice wall behind her gaze never melts; and the laughter is higher-pitched, not the deep chest or belly laughs she shares with him.

          She managed to pull him into the class as her ‘massage dummy’ whenever he is not off-world with Sheppard’s team. They spend most of their free time together. He seeks her out when he returns from off-world trips and she finds him after her mess hall shifts.

          Sheppard teases, says they are ‘dating’. When Ronon shares this with Jax, she laughs like…a young girl and slaps him lightly on the arm or chest. “Sheppard is such a doof!” Off one of his confused looks, she adds: “Silly, silly man.”

          The rumors run rampant but neither care. They know the truth of the situation: they are two-of-a-kind. Soul mates, even. But most importantly, they trust each other.

          “Sheppard is intimidated by your overwhelming hotness,” Ronon says, using her words from before, and she chuckles a hearty rumble.

          “If only!” Then she turns it around with a wicked grin, “And Teyla turns bright red whenever you take off your shirt. She’s burning for you.”

          Ronon _is_ attracted to Teyla, but he prefers denying it so Jax will tease him more. They bicker and fight over who is more pathetic regarding their ‘crushes’. One time it became so heated, they ended up tussling in the gym. Ronon easily pinned Jax to the mat with size and strength on his side, but he learned a few tricks about how women can subdue attackers on Earth. Some painful tricks, actually. One involving his smallest finger. And once, Jax demonstrated how size doesn ’t matter…by flipping him over onto his back and placing her foot at his throat using what she calls ‘Judo’.

          They never hurt each other. A few bruises here and there, but her safety _is essential_ to his well-being these days. Jax never asks to touch him now, she simply does. His arm, his knee…a hug. She  doesn’t flinch when he is around and he is permitted to hug her without asking. They share each others space. Comfortable with one another.

          Ronon forgot how wonderful being close to another person feels. He enjoys being with his team, but Jax’s presence lifts his mood, makes him feel like he belongs; like Atlantis is home now.

          Over the past months, she has taught him many things about Earth, including how to read English and use contractions. She has many stories on a small thing called a USB drive she has shared with him. He likes the Prey books of John Sandford and his Detective Lucas Davenport. And he finally understands Sheppard’s use of the name Chewy, having seen the original _Star Wars_ trilogy and read several books that followed.

          Jax worried he might be offended by Sheppard’s name-calling but Ronon laughs at it. He likes the big ‘walking carpet’ that is Chewbacca.

          Like Jax, he learns quickly, the language is not too different from Sateda’s. The contractions give him pause when speaking. He has to think to use them. But he’s getting better. And he rarely has to ask her for clarification when reading a book passage.

          He enjoys card games the most because she talks easily during those times, mostly about Charlie and Lily whom she clearly loves with all her heart. And a place called Disneyland, though that leaves her disgruntled. “Walt Disney would roll over in his grave at their greed, if he hadn’t had his head frozen.” Never of Ryan; though, she clearly thinks of him; when her barriers fall, there’s sadness in her eyes. They watch movies or TV shows on her computer…she has many of the DVD’s so coveted by the Lanteans. They are from her personal ‘stash’ as is her artillery—gifts from a fan, she says. There are two she watches over and over, _The Cutting Edge_ and _Ice Castles_ but refuses to share with him. Her private time.

          “Probably porn,” Sheppard said one day after Ronon mentioned the secret movies though he couldn’t remember the titles at the time. When Ronon asked him to elaborate on his comment, Sheppard’s face turned red and he shook his head. “Instructional videos.”

          One night watching a TV show called “Friends” Ronon caught sight of one of the packages sent to her from Earth. It’s rare for Jax to look truly happy—usually fleeting—but it happens when she receives mail. Probably because of her hidden history, it only comes from one person: her _fan_ named GON. When Ronon asked who that is, she smiled slyly and winked. “My secret admirer.”

          Hmm. Another secret. Ronon wonders if he will ever know all of Jax’s secrets. He hopes not. She keeps things interesting around here.

          Starting class, Jax waves him over to the gurney—the tables have yet to arrive, something about red-tape; he wonders if that looks like Sheppard’s duct tape—and has him lie face down as he’s done many times before. He grumbles, sending deadly glares to the students, though he catches Jax’s smirk. He enjoys her massages and she knows it. She has even managed to rope in the rest of the team as ‘human props’, as McKay calls them.

          The scientist grumbles as much as Ronon about being forced into servitude, but Ronon has never seen McKay so gleeful than when it is his turn to take part. Neither Sheppard nor Teyla bothers bemoaning the class. They clearly enjoy the relaxation offered by Jax’s delicate but firm touch. Ronon even caught Sheppard napping through a massage one time.

          She’s drawing on his back with her washable ink pen—he enjoys it more than he should—pointing out specific muscles in the back, always complementing Ronon as being an ‘exquisite specimen’ or teaching tool.

          The others each take a section as she stands aside, arms crossed, eyes watching. He catches her gaze and snarls at her. She simply grins then goes back to watching her students work.

          The others have limited skills, but they are learning. The prize comes after the class is over and Jax gives him a full body massage from head to toe as payment for his time. Those are tough to stay alert through and he has given up trying. Even when he dreams of Nally, he manages to stay calm and relaxed. Jax has done that for him. Given him the chance to remember…in peace.

          He wonders if he will be able to repay her for it.

          After class ends, she pulls the Tea Tree Gel from her ‘bag of crap’ because Ronon really likes the smell of it. “I got some mail today,” she says softly as she works her fingers into his neck. “From my secret admirer.” Ronon moans, letting her know he is listening. “Wanna watch some of it with me tonight after I get out of the mess?”

          “Have to go off-world tomorrow.”

          “C’mon, Ronon…it’s not like you need a lot of sleep.” He turns his head and sees her grinning at him. “It’ll be short. I think the first episode lasts forty minutes or something—commercial free.”

          “What is it now?” The ‘Friends’ episodes are short.

          “An old TV show. One of my favorites as a kid.”

          Something she liked as a child? Now he _is_ intrigued. “Okay. But not too late.”

          “Deal.”

          The rest of the massage is done in silence in deference to him. She’s told him most people like soft music but he relishes the quiet, as he did on the balcony before he met her.

          Jax finishes up and wipes the gel from her hands. “See you in five hours.” She gives him a light slap on the rear.

          Ronon nods. He waits for her to leave before rising from the table, removing the towel from around his waist and getting dressed. He learned early on that his ‘lack of modesty’ is a deterrent from her ability to teach the class. She says even the male student gets distracted, for some reason she won’t explain. So, she requires him to be covered in that ‘strategic’ area until everyone leaves, including her.

          The same rule clearly applies to Teyla, McKay, and Sheppard, though Ronon finds it amusing that when Sheppard is in the towel it's usually quite small and Jax is reluctant to leave so quickly. Sheppard is the one to blush at times, not Jax.


	17. Chapter 17

** ~ SECRET ~ **

          It’s near midnight when Ronon arrives at Jax’s quarters. Showered and dressed for bed wearing her usual T-shirt (this one reads: Browncoats Unite) and shorts, Jax grabs the cereal box from the desk—her heart-smart snack food of choice which they both eat. He likes the honey-nut flavor best. “Most people eat it with milk,” she told him the first time they shared some. “I don’t like mushy stuff. Milk makes ‘em too mushy.”

          Ronon understood, having tried many of the cereals from Earth; aside from milk softening them up too much for enjoyment, the dairy product routinely leaves him with stomach pain. He prefers the big box for snacking. To get him through the day, breakfast requires large portions of cooked food: pancakes, eggs, sausage…and the ever-elusive bacon.

          Finally, ready to relax, Jax turns on the large-screen laptop set up on a chair at the foot of the bed, joins Ronon on the other end, leaning against the wall with pillows behind them; somehow, they manage to fit comfortably, if overlapping: his arm behind her and Jax’s head against his shoulder and chest.

          Snappy music and an explosion of the title: “ _MacGyver_ ” starts the show. Jax giggles and the tiniest tremor passes through her into him. “I can’t believe he sent this to me. Su-weeet!”

          Ronon wants to know more about this secret admirer. What are his intentions toward Jax? How does he know so much about her? How does he make her happy even for a brief instance when she gets one of his packages?

          If the mail came from Charlie, she would have told him. But this person she keeps to herself; making Ronon uneasy. Still, the intriguing program pushes lingering thoughts about Jax’s admirer away as the images progress. The hero of this one is quite inventive.

          Jax remarks while they watch: about the show, the actors; references to other things Ronon could not know or understand. She apologizes repeatedly but continues making her comments; they make her giggle more, so Ronon doesn’t dissuade her.

          “Doesn’t Mac remind you of Sheppard?” she asks.

          Ronon wrinkles his brows, considering the thought. “No. They look very different.”

          She taps his chest gently. “I know that. But he’s just so…  _SO_!” She looks up at him, her tired eyes full of joy so rarely seen. “You’re a guy… you’ll never understand how women think.” Ronon nods in agreement.

          With a “Please” she gets him to watch one more episode, but then she falls asleep half-way through.

          Ronon slips out from under her and turns off the laptop, setting it on the desk. There’s left-over packaging on the floor near the bed. Ronon checks on Jax: sleeping fitfully as usual. He knows he should let it go…leave her secret alone. But he’s wary of this admirer. What if _he_ suddenly hurts Jax! Ronon cannot permit that, she has changed so much. He must know. He picks up the box and checks the outside label:

                              To: M Jackson, SGA  
                              From: GON  
                              Priority Mail.  
                              CONFIDENTIAL.

          Sifting through the wrapping, he finds a folded piece of paper. Feeling slightly guilty, Ronon reads the note.

_Angie,_

_Got your message. Trust Weir. Your secret is safe with her. C & L are expecting. Big smiles. Be happy. _

_Love Jack._

          He reads the last part again: _Love?_

          Ronon clenches his teeth. Who is this Jack? Why has she not mentioned him before?

          Grumbling incoherently, Jax rolls away from him and curls into herself, bringing her knees up and her arms close to her chest. Her fisted hands rest against her chin.

          She would hate his witnessing her pain this way. Without the caffeine tabs to keep her awake, she now works herself into exhaustion so she can rest for a few hours. She told him once that the best night’s sleep she’s had in eight years was after the expedition stopped the Wraith from taking The City. She’d been too tired to dream.

          This happened a while before Ronon came to Atlantis. Jax had still been a shadow among the inhabitants.

          He could not imagine this place without her!

          He drops the note back in the package and sets the box in its original place by the bed.

          Deciding to deal with her wrath in the morning, Ronon kicks off his boots and slides back onto the bed behind her. It’s a tight fit, but he wants to comfort her if he can. Rolling onto his side, he manages to snake his arm around her waist and gently tugs her closer to him. She stirs, grunting something about “socks with forks” but doesn’t wake.


	18. Chapter 18

** ~ AGITATE ~ **

          Jax leans against the railing at the top of the Gateroom stairs hands clasped, trying to look relaxed while watching AT-1 return; her eyes full of worry as Beckett orders a bloodied Sheppard onto the waiting gurney. Though no longer working in the infirmary, she must have heard the doctor’s transmission to command about Elia’s attack on the Colonel. The young female Wraith attached her feeding hand to his arm; an odd way to feed, but she was more bug than Wraith by that time. Jax’s transfixed gaze on Sheppard, as he’s wheeled away, leaves her unaware of Ronon coming up the stairs and standing next to her. He taps her shoulder; she jerks away.

          Taking half a moment to recognize him she sighs and grins, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

          “The Gateroom could be under attack and all you would see is him.”

          With a short nod, she agrees. Then: “Is he all right?”

          “He got bit by…the Wraith.”

          She looks him squarely in the eyes, taking care with each word. “Is He All Right?”

          “It’s barely a scratch. He’s just playing up all that blood for attention.” Jax stares at him, arching a brow, daring him to continue. “Sheppard will be fine,” he growls, rubbing her tense shoulders. “He always is.”

          She sighs again; a relief-filled smile softens her face. “You’re right. Of course.” After a moment, she adds: “Sorry about last night. Falling asleep on you.”

          Ronon rubs her back some more, she’s finally relaxing. He says: “Best night’s sleep I have had in a long while.”

          She grins up at him, barrier-free. “Me too.”

          “Come with me. Check on Sheppard.”

          Her brows wrinkle and she pulls in her upper lip with her bottom teeth. “I’m not allowed in there…unless I’m sick.” She bobs her head from side-to-side. “Besides. Like you said. It’s Sheppard. He’ll be out in no time.” She turns toward the corridor and Ronon follows. “Did you like the show last night?”

          “It was…interesting.”

          “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got the whole first season,” she grins. “If you wanna watch.”

          Ronon chuckles. “I will keep it in mind.”

*** § ***

          Hard music slams into his brain the moment Ronon opens the gym door.

 [Invincible by Adelitas](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Nw7kWNZx7Td2uG8Os7JbhqKxBnO1ljWt/view?usp=sharing)

          She’s punching and kicking the heavy bag in time to the beat with more force than he believed such a small body could possess. Her fighting technique intrigues him; must be something else Ryan taught her. Or she read it in a book. Either way, Jax would be a formidable opponent when enraged.

          This is not a good day. Though the bad ones are fewer now; that hostile fire still burns deep inside. Jax has never accosted anyone, besides Ronon, but he knows her glares could melt ice and they have made several of the soldiers clutch their sidearms a bit tighter. Lately, it takes something big to set her off. And there is something  _big_  brewing in The City.

          “What?” she snaps, jabbing hard at the bag.

          “Been looking for you,” he yells over the music.

          “Busy.” She kicks the bag with her right leg then punches with her left glove. The muscles in her abdomen, neck, arms, and shoulders glisten with sweat; tremble with fatigue. She’s been here long enough.

          Ronon grabs the bag even as she lands another high kick. “You’re done.”

          She slams her fist into it. “Nope.” Another punch. “Song’s not over.”

          Ronon steadies the bag as she works out her frustration; it’s in her eyes even with the icy shield in place.

          After the song ends, Jax waves a gloved hand in the air and turns off the sound system, leaving overwhelming silence in the wake. Ronon’s shocked he can hear his own thoughts. Using her teeth, she zips open the Velcro tab on the back of the right glove and shakes it off then pulls the left one free. Blood dots the white cloth wrapped and taped over her knuckles.

          He grabs her wrists roughly. “Enjoying the pain?”

          She yanks out of his grip. “Yeah, actually.”

          Ronon straightens at her tone. “They’re still working on it. Beckett is going to cure him.”

          “You can’t  _know_  that.” She grabs a bottle of water and squirts it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his.

          “It’s not your fault, Jax.”

          She throws the bottle at him; he catches it in one hand. “I know that! The universe doesn’t revolve around me! I’m not an idiot.”

          “Then stop behaving as if you are.”

          She lets loose a low, guttural roar: “Fuuuuck!” If everything wasn’t so serious, if he didn’t know why she feels this way, he would laugh. But he knows her too well now. She blames herself simply because it is her way. Someone she cares about may die.

          She’s told him often enough, she does not love Sheppard—she no longer does that sort of thing—she likes him because he’s so pretty. But no matter what, she believes she’s cursed him  _because_  she likes him. Believes she’s cursed everyone on Atlantis…especially Ronon. Usually, when she’s in these dark moods, he’s able to pull her free. Make her see reason. “Jax–”

          “Ronon, this is Teyla.” The call comes through his radio earpiece.

          “Yes,” he responds.

          “We are leaving for the planet in ten minutes.”

          “On my way.” Jax watches him. “We are going to help him. I promise.”

          On his way out, he hears her mutter. “Nobody keeps promises to me.” Ronon swears he will prove her wrong this time.

*** ~ § ~ ***

          Upon returning from the planet having lost two of their team trying to retrieve the Iratus bug eggs, Ronon tries to find Jax, half-heartedly. He’s not in the mood to deal with her. Sometimes she needs to be on her own and so does he. Right now, in fact. His guilt and helplessness would combine with hers, probably driving them into a screaming match about who feels worse followed by blows.

          He goes to the mess for a late lunch, the mood all over The City is subdued but the mess hall is depressing. No one talks; the looks they share are full of sadness. They know his team failed to get any eggs from the nest and without the eggs, Beckett can’t make a cure for Sheppard.

          The Colonel is going to die.  

          Ronon barely eats before getting up and going to his quarters.

          The alert comes just as the door to his room slides open. He’d forgotten to take off his earpiece. “On my way.” He rushes to the Control Room.

          Sheppard is on the loose.

*** ~ §§ ~ ***

          Col. Caldwell breaks in over the radio: “Bravo Team you’re on deck. Our tango is on the floor right below you.”

_That’s us_ , Ronon thinks as he, Teyla and three soldiers: Michaels, Wilsims, and Pruitt move down the corridor hunting for Col. Sheppard.

          He broke free of his guards less than twenty minutes ago, after attacking Dr. Weir in his quarters. Now he’s running loose in the city, unencumbered by the inhibitor drug Beckett was giving him. Ronon wonders how much of Sheppard is still within the body.

          “You heard the man, down the stairs,” Pruitt says, readying the Wraith stunner.

          A flash of red catches the corner of Ronon’s eye. His heart flips with fear. He darts left into an adjacent corridor. Teyla calls to him, but he’s already on the move.

          Jax’s red bag is on the floor.

          Ronon recognized the corridor as soon as they stepped off the transporter. Part of Sheppard must have felt secure coming down here…where no one is supposed to be. Except this leads to both his and Jax’s private getaways.

          Not three feet from the red bag, Jax lays slumped against the wall, unconscious. Ronon kneels in front of her. Blood on her neck shakes his resolve. Feeling for a pulse, he sighs with relief; it’s racing. “Jax?”

          Her eyes open. “Ronon?”

          “You’re awake,” he grins.

          “Playing dead.” She sits up, using the wall for support, in obvious pain, but wary enough to keep one of her daggers clenched tight in her fist. “Oh…oww…now  _I_  need a massage. And some serious painkillers.”

          “What happened?”

          “Wrong place…wrong place…again.” Her eyes roll, she blinks heavily. “I was on my way back from target practice. He came out of the transporter and–” She touches her throat. “Grabbed me…dragged me over here. I hit the wall hard. Almost knocked me out. He held me up, stared at me a long time, like waiting for me to make a move. But then… he…” Her mouth twists with disgust and she wipes her sleeve across her cheek. “He licked me.”

          “He could have killed you.”

          She shakes her head but instantly regrets the movement. “At first I thought he’d snap my neck… but then… he wanted to do something…worse.”

          “What could be worse?” Her drowsy eyes hold his and her brows arch. Even with a head injury, Jax can say more with one look than a hundred words; mostly telling him he’s an idiot.

          Ronon growls when it finally sinks in. He turns off the stun button on his gun.

          “I’m all right…he didn’t… something stopped him. He didn’t hurt me…well, more than knocking my brain around a bit.” Ronon starts to stand but Jax grabs his arm. “He’s still in there.”

          “Not anymore.”

          Her arm drops and she mumbles wearily. “He can’t die…not because of me.” She blinks, trying to stay awake. “Promise me.”

          Ronon growls again then sighs, switching back to stun. “I promise.” He touches her shoulder. “Stay here.”

          “Not a problem.” Her eyes close.

          Ronon goes back to the outer corridor. He can hear the others below. He turns right, taking up a different post. Gunfire. Lots of gunfire.

          “Colonel… do not make me do this!” Teyla yells. More gunfire.

          Moments later, Sheppard runs by him. Ronon shoots him twice in the back, stunning the Colonel; he drops face first to the floor. Teyla is not far behind. She stops next to Ronon. “Get the doctor down here,” Ronon calls into the radio. “I have him.”

          Teyla sighs then jumps when a hand lands on her shoulder. “Jax!” Teyla reaches to support her.

          Jax waves her off. “I’m fine.” She steps closer to Ronon, looking down on Sheppard.

          Teyla gently lifts Jax’s hair. “Your head is bleeding.”

          Jax stares intently at the Colonel, her eyes glassy, voice raspy and her speech slurring a little. She tilts her head. “I know he’s all icky…but…is it wrong that I still find him fantastically hot?”

          Teyla and Ronon look at each other, then at Jax.

          She catches them staring and wrinkles her brow, swaying slightly. “Suppose it could just be the massive head trauma.”  She drops almost falling onto the Colonel, but Ronon catches her with one arm.

*** ~ §§§ ~ ***

          Once again, she’s lying in the infirmary. Ronon looks up from Jax as Beckett approaches the bed. “How is she?”

          “A couple of contusions on her neck. She has a concussion, but no swelling or skull fractures. Plus, you found her awake and mostly alert, which is a good thing. The head lac wasn’t so bad…just messy. And I’ve tested her blood…no sign of the virus.”

          Ronon sighs with relief. He nudges her and her eyes open. “I want to sleep.”

          “Aye, close your eyes lass. Get some rest. But I’ll be waking you every hour or so. Just to be safe.”

          “See.” She says to Ronon then rolls away from him.

          “And Sheppard?” Ronon asks. Jax rolls back, eyes wide open again.

          Beckett shakes his head. “In a coma. He’s not in any pain.”

          “You’re sure there’s nothing we can do?” Ronon asks. “I can try to–”

          Beckett shakes his head. “You saw how quickly those bugs moved, son. Nobody is that fast. Even you. Now, the lass  _is_  going to rest,” he looks directly at Jax. She nods and rolls onto her side again. “Why don’t you get some too,” he pats Ronon’s shoulder. Beckett is the kindest man Ronon has ever met. And the best doctor he’s ever seen.

          Ronon nods and heads out, plagued by the image of Jax slumped on the floor. He was ready to kill Sheppard for hurting her, or almost hurting her  _worse_. But then she would’ve had a legitimate reason to blame herself and Ronon couldn’t let her live with that. Not Sheppard’s death. Even if she does not feel the same way about him that she did for Ryan…she feels something.

          And that means everything.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

** ~ EXPOSE ~ **

          Jax leans into Ronon as he helps her down the corridor and into her quarters. She’s woozy from the concussion and limping slightly, having sprained her ankle during the run-in with _Bugman_ (as she refers to him). Not to forget the bruises on her back from being slammed into the wall and the red hand mark around her throat; she’s stiff and sore, but as always, Jax is fine.

          She refuses to consider that Sheppard had any part in her attack. In fact, she’s almost convinced Ronon that Sheppard saved her from Bugman. He let her go _before_ Bravo Team emerged from the transporter, so part of the Colonel knew to stop before it got out-of-hand…or more out-of-hand.

          Her humor about it is pure Jax which makes Ronon’s stomach clench. “Out of everyone, it picked me as a possible mate? At least I’m guessing that’s what it had in mind…you never know with men…especially bug men. They’re a bit hard to read. What with the reptile-like eyes and all. Guess I’m flattered, really. On an animal level, I’m Sheppard’s type… or Bugman’s anyway. Makes a girl feel special… knowing she has options.” She didn’t say it loud enough for anyone other than Ronon to hear; didn’t want anyone else to know…at all.

          Especially Sheppard.

          She’s ordered Ronon not to speak a word about it when the Colonel gets better. “As adorable as he is when embarrassed by the tiny joke towel I hand him after a massage, he’d never forgive himself for hurting me even a little. Too much of a hero. I can’t do that to him.”

          Ronon objected, but she convinced him to keep quiet.

          It’s been two days since Beckett gave Sheppard the cure he concocted. Everyone’s waiting patiently for the Colonel to recover, none so much as Jax. Ronon wonders if seeing him getting healthy will change her opinion about the curse she swears she brought down on everyone here.

          In the meantime, Beckett has ordered something called a bubble bath followed by bed-rest. Jax swears someone owes her a massage, but she’s not going to ask anyone simply because she does not trust people to touch her.

          Waving a hand over the control crystal, Ronon opens her door and leads her to the bed where she sits. She kicks off her medi-socks, lies back and crosses her arm over her eyes. “Okay, that’s enough exercise for the day.”

          “C’mon, Jax. Thought you had more stamina than that.”

          She peeks out from under her arm. “ _That_ is _not_ a discussion I ever plan on having with you.”

          Ronon smirks, his cheeks heating a bit. “Beckett wants you to have a bubble bath. What is that exactly?”

          “A bath with bubbles,” she says wearily. Pulling herself up takes effort, and though she grimaces, she never states a complaint of pain. “I don’t have any.”

          “Any what?”

          “Bubbles.” She frowns. “Not much of a girl, I’m afraid.” Ronon’s brows crease and she laughs. “Well, I’ve got the parts! Just not the whole,” she waves her hand in a circle. “Necessary _stuff_ that goes with it.”

          He shakes his head. “I will never understand females.”

          She laughs harder which makes her grab her head in pain. “Stop it. You’re killing me.” Jax points to the bathroom. “Could you fill the tub? Nice and hot.” Ronon disappears into the bathroom.

          Ronon enjoys the showers here but he hasn’t tried the tub yet. According to Sheppard, the Ancients were very advanced in everything, including the luxury and enjoyment of bathing. The large, long tub has temperature control to keep the water at the specified degree for as long as the occupant wants, but also has fiber cushioning that conforms to the body. Very different from what he calls ‘Earth crap’.

          Ronon checks the display on the tub edge after turning on the water. “How hot do you want it?”

          After a moment, Jax replies: “100 should be good. And hit the bottom left button to turn on the Jacuzzi.”

          Ronon doesn’t know that word, but as soon as he presses the button the water starts churning in the tub. He leaves the bath to rise; it has a sensor to keep from overflowing. The Ancients were true geniuses according to Sheppard.

          As he returns to her bedroom, he catches Jax staring at the ceiling. She raises three fingers then touches her thumb to her middle finger. A short wave of her hand and music he hasn’t heard before starts.

 [Our New Home](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1TAOWH5n-ODqqWL-_ecIRrXDA4iXJCJzB/view?usp=sharing) 

          He is so used to her playing loud sometimes harsh tones and words. Right now, the music is somber… sweet sounding. Quite relaxing.

          Jax is such a conundrum.

          He loves that about her.

          Slowly rolling her spine up, as though each inch hurts more than she will ever express, she keeps going until she’s slouching forward, probing her swollen ankle. “That’s a good two or three weeks without dance. Fuckin’ Bugman!”

          “Would you really have done it?” Ronon asks, leaning against the door frame.

          Jax eyes dart to him. “Done _it_?”

          “Used your dagger.”

          She sighs, chuckling slightly. “Oh…that.” She shrugs. “I don’t know.” Bottom teeth tug on her upper lip and she nods. “If it made me.”

          The door chime jingles. “Yeah,” Jax says.

          Teyla appears when the door slides open. “Hope I am not interrupting.”

          “Nope,” Jax smiles through her pain. “How’s he doing?”

          Teyla smiles and Ronon catches a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. She must sense Jax’s feelings, but she does not let on. “Col. Sheppard is doing well. Still unconscious, but Dr. Beckett said that is to be expected.” Teyla holds out a bottle of green liquid. “Dr. Weir heard of your medical instructions. She wondered if you would enjoy this.”

          Jax takes the bottle and opens the top, sniffing the contents. “Wow. That’s nice.” She hands the bottle to Ronon. “Very girlie,” she says.

          Ronon does not recognize the scent. It is very…female however. “Is this bubbles?”

          “I was informed as such.” Teyla smiles. She looks at Jax. “Dr. Weir also mentioned the use of candles. Do you require such things?”

          Jax grins a bit, dropping her gaze to the floor, touched by the offer. “Not really. But thanks.” She catches Teyla is gaze. “And thank Dr. Weir for me too, please. I promise not to use it all.” Teyla nods then turns to leave, but not before gifting Ronon with one of her soft smiles.

_Interesting,_ he muses, turning back into the bathroom.

          Ronon squeezes some of the green liquid into the tub and watches as foam begins to form. He scoops bubbles in his hand and rubs it through his fingers. Just soap. Nothing special. As the tub continues to fill, the aroma circulates and he takes a deep breath. _Okay, that is new_. He closes his eyes and is instantly transported to a dreamscape filled with bright flowers, blooming trees and a lovely… Teyla strolling naked through a meadow.

_Hmmm. Bubbles do make a difference._

          Ronon sets the bottle on the counter, crosses back into Jax’s room. She’s still on the bed. “I believe it is ready. So, I will go to.”

          “Wait.” Ronon turns in time to see her wince. Then her brows wrinkle in frustration and a deep blush creeps up her neck. She closes her eyes tightly. “I need help.” She drops her face into her hands. “I can’t move.” She looks up at him with such helplessness. “Could you carry me into the bathroom?”

          Ronon’s brows shoot up. “Uh…Jax. Are you not supposed to…undress first?”

          “Generally.” She catches her upper lip with her teeth again. “But…you know…not too eager to try right now.” She pulls at the hem of her white infirmary scrubs. “I say. Just plop me into the tub, clothes and all.”

          Seeing she’s not joking, he scoops her up—she’s as lightweight as a pillow to him—and sets her into the tub. She sits and leans back, fully clothed, bubbles pillowing around her. “Ohhh…that is nice.” She closes her eyes and smiles softly. “Thanks, Tarzan.”

          He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re welcome, Cheetah.”

          Her eyes pop open. “What?”

          Ronon grins. “Sheppard told me to say that. If you ever called me Tarzan again.”

          “Not that. You used a contraction!” She grins. “Good boy.” Jax grunts. “Good thing I didn’t know about the Cheetah thing before though.”

          “Why?”

          She closes her eyes again, settling into the water. “‘cause then I _definitely_ would have stabbed him. Not mortally but still… I’d have given him a wicked scar.”

          Ronon doesn't believe her for a second. He looks back once, seeing peace settle over her features and leaves her to enjoy it.

**~ § ~**

          Ronon intended to check on Jax after dinner but Teyla distracted him with a sparring session. They worked out hard for nearly two hours. Now sweaty and pleasantly tired, Ronon figures it’s too late to bother Jax. She should be asleep, per Beckett’s order.

          He doesn’t understand why, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind, nudging him toward her quarters anyway. 

[The Hologram](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1JlR1TDSFRfSexcWc8QSxmOsubaujzAYO/view?usp=sharing)

          He palms the door control after knocking twice and not getting an answer—unlocked, odd—expecting her to be in bed. “Jax?” Muted city lights shine through the multi-hued glass window to the left of the bed, leaving most of the room pitch black. Ronon turns on the lights, keeping them dim.

          She’s not in bed.

          He steps inside, leans through the bathroom door and sees her in the darkness; sound asleep in the tub, one arm hanging over the side, dripping water onto the floor. The bubbles have long since dissipated, and a pile of white—her clothes from the infirmary—lay in a heap next to the tub in a puddle of water. “Jax?” He moves closer to her. “Jax?”

          “Hmm?” she answers without opening her eyes, barely moving her head to acknowledge him.

          “Are you all right?”

          “Notwls,” she mumbles.

          It takes a moment for him to understand what she said. With a headshake, he returns to her bedroom and opens her wardrobe. Two large towels lay in the side slot; he pulls both out. Given the circumstances, he’s pretty sure Jax will not kill him for what he is about to do…or see.

          Pulling back the blanket and top sheet from her bed, he lays one towel out then takes the other back into the bathroom and sets it on the counter.

          “Jax. Can you get up?”

          “Nvrbttr,” she sighs, still not opening her eyes.

          Ronon takes that as a no. He hits the button on the control panel that drains the tub. It doesn't take long for the water to disappear. Jax rolls onto her side, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around herself. “C..cc..old.”

          Ronon drapes the towel over her, lifts her up, wrapping the towel better in the process—no longer amazed by how light she is in his arms—and carries her into the other room. He lays her face down on the other towel and proceeds to dry her off as efficiently as possible to keep her from catching a chill.

          For the first time, he sees the scar on her back, the exit would clearly caused more damage. Until now, she always managed to hide it, more out of habit he suspects. Just like the one on her chest, it has been surgically altered, but even in the dim light of the bedroom, he can trace the tell-tale outline with his finger, sending a shiver through her back. Ronon pulls his hand away and continues drying her off. There’s another longer scar on her left side, it seems to wrap around from her front just under her breast to nearly the hip on her back. It’s more jagged as though done in a rush. Perhaps, her second or third surgery from the gunshot wound when she nearly died. Or did die, as she said. Whatever surgery was done to hide this scar was not as successful.

          As he wipes the water from her back, he’s careful of the bruises that are worse than he expected. They travel her spine from the mid-back and into her shoulders. Sheppard… No Bugman! really did a nasty job slamming her into that wall. Ronon’s surprised nothing is broken. No wonder she’s so stiff and sore. Or was. The bath seems to have had the desired effect, leaving her limp and pliable in his hands as he tends to her.

          He’s never seen Jax so relaxed when not unconscious because of a head injury. Even under the influence of the sedative in the infirmary, she had not relinquished this much control. She’s always full of energy, especially when she sleeps. Seeing her like this, helpless, sends a shudder down his spine. If he wasn’t seeing it for himself, he never would believe it.

          Ronon pulls the sheet and blanket up to her shoulders then rolls her toward him so he can retrieve the towel he placed on the bed earlier. She turns her head on the pillow and sinks deeper under the covers. Ronon sweeps a stray curl behind her ear then kisses her forehead. “Betr notv luked.”

          Her words barely form as they slip out in her sleep, but Ronon understands and chuckles. “Not too much,” he says, patting her covered shoulder before turning out the lights and leaving.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SGA Soundtrack


	20. Chapter 20

** ~ AWAKEN ~ **

          Ronon catches Sheppard leaving the gym, going the same direction down the corridor. Slouching, rubbing the back of his neck—a motion of frustration Ronon has noticed before—Sheppard glances over his shoulder, brows knit together; deep in thought and acknowledges Ronon with a slight raise of his chin then turns away and continues on. More of a shuffle than his usual loose-hipped gait; he’s taking his time.

          Ronon passed Teyla a few moments ago. Perhaps she gave Sheppard a good whumping, though it seems unlikely considering he was just released from the infirmary after a two-week stay.  In two strides, Ronon’s at his commander’s side. “Colonel.”

          Sheppard looks at him again, taking a moment then: “…hey, Ronon.”

          “Are you all right?”

          “Yeah…” he nods slowly, as though convincing himself of his answer.

          “Where are you going?”

          He motions toward the transporter at the end of the long hall. “Kinda hungry actually. Thinking about the mess. You?”

          “Same.” Ronon checks the man over, never having seen him in these kinds of Earth clothes: civvies, like Jax calls her ‘non-conforming’ sweatpants and tank tops. In this light blue shirt and pale ‘trousers’ Sheppard’s different; he’s not the Colonel, he’s…a man out for a walk. “And the other thing?”

          “According to Beckett, I’m 100% John Sheppard again.” He tilts his head, wrinkling his brows. “Been making the rounds. Apologies. You just missed Teyla.”

          “Saw her. She seemed…distracted.”

          “Hmm.”

          “Apologies?”

          Sheppard sighs, coming to a stop, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and rocking on his feet. “Yeah. Kinda had some time to remember what happened when I… wasn’t myself.”

          “Right. So, am I next on your list?”

          “You?” Sheppard’s eyes widen. “You shot me!”

          Ronon bobs his head and smirks, watching Sheppard from under his brows. “Twice.”

          Sheppard makes a face and starts down the corridor again. “Yeah. Guess I had it coming.”

          “More than you know.”

          He stops again and turns to Ronon with a narrowed gaze. “Okay, I’m still fuzzy on quite a bit of what happened—barely remember attacking Elizabeth—but I’m sure I didn’t do anything to you.”

          Ronon keeps from blurting out the truth about Bugman’s carnal attack and interest only because he can still hear Jax in his head: _He can never know._

          Ronon thinks she’s more afraid of Sheppard avoiding her out of embarrassment than anything else. She treasures the limited time she can spend in the Colonel’s presence; especially when she has him trapped on her massage table. Though she _still_ swears she does not have feelings for the man.

          Ronon’s not so sure about that anymore. 

          “I meant… in general. You did whack a couple of the soldiers pretty hard.”

          Flashes of guilt and embarrassment color Sheppard’s face. Then he lifts his gaze and smirks a little. “Kinda miss the power though…you know? All that speed and being able to climb the walls like Spiderman.”

          “Understandable. Who wouldn’t?” After a moment, Ronon asks: “Spiderman?”

          “Marvel Superhero… I’ll try to get the movies… and Batman, though that’s DC, not Marvel…Michael Keaton kicked it in the ass…not so much the other guys. I bet they got paid more though….” Sheppard’s babbling, a clear sign he’s not himself.

          As they near the end of the corridor a high-pitched keening interrupts Sheppard’s monologue. A moment later, Lt. Laura Cadman races around the corner and plows into Sheppard, knocking him back a step. She jumps away giggling—like a young girl—clutching her hand to her mouth.

          “Lieutenant!” _There’s_ The Colonel: demanding in his usual ‘what-is-going-on’ manner.

          Cadman ducks left towards Ronon as a red ball flies through the air, missing her and hitting Sheppard square in the chest, exploding all over him in a spray of water. Both Ronon and Sheppard look down at the man’s now soaking shirt. Sheppard blinks repeatedly; standing with hands in pockets. Stunned.

          A moment later, _Jax_ rushes around the corner, eyes wide, catching on to her misfire. “Whooops!” She too drips water from head to toe. Seems the Lieutenant knows how to hit the mark with any weapon.

          Stranger still, Jax is _giggling_ like Lt. Cadman! Her wild eyes glisten with joy. She’s holding another one of those water bombs in her hand; eyeing Cadman wickedly.

          The Lieutenant raises her hands in defense, but not soon enough as Jax throws the bomb at the other woman’s head and water sprays everywhere: the wall, the floor, and Ronon, leaving Cadman squealing.

          “Hoo-ra!” Jax hollers and does a strange jerking movement—her ‘victory dance’ —that always makes Ronon chuckle.

          Sheppard pulls at his shirt front; water making it thick and heavy; the flapping noise as he shakes it reminds Ronon of a fist hitting a face. Sheppard’s doing a horrible job of hiding a smirk as he again demands of Cadman: “What the hell is going on, Soldier?”

          Cadman takes a step back, trying to stand up straight, but wobbling in her boots. “Sir…” she sputters; a slide of her eyes toward Jax has them blowing out more laughter. Wrapping both arms around her middle, Cadman bends forward she’s laughing so hard, nearly falling, forcing Ronon to step up and grab hold of her.

          She grips his forearms and those delicate, warm fingers send a pleasant tingle through his skin. Then both hands move to his upper arms. “Whoa…you’re all kinds of pretty, aren’t you,” she slurs and starts caressing his chest. “Wanna show me your tree house, Tarzan?”

          Ronon jerks back not at the name—though he’s going to have a conversation with Jax about it—but when her exploration takes an intimately lower course.

          Jax grabs hold of Cadman’s head, pulling her away for a quiet conference, the Lieutenant blushes and giggles at whatever Jax whispers into her ear. Jax returns Cadman to her previous position in front of Ronon; the Lieutenant’s blue eyes hot and dark on his: “You can call me Jane.”

          Jax winks at Ronon, grinning and snorting a giggle—which only makes her and Cadman laugh more.

          “Isn’t your name Laura?” Ronon’s confusion seems to fuel their giddiness and they stumble over each other, falling backward onto the floor in a lump, Cadman’s legs tangling with Jax’s.

          “Oww,” they chorus, look at each other and chuckling again.

          They are so ridiculous and yet adorable—and a bit sexy on Laura’s part—Ronon’s having a hard time not joining in. He already feels a smile pulling at his lips, though he’s trying to remain stoic as usual.

          “Soldier!” Sheppard nails Laura with his official ‘Colonel’ voice. “What the hell is up with you two?”

          Laura tries to sit up, but she’s too tangled with Jax. “Don’t you mean down, sir?”

          Jax lies on her back in the middle of the corridor, giggling so hard her body shakes. She wraps her arms around her stomach as if trying to hold in her mirth.

          Ronon looks to Sheppard. “Drunk?”

          “That’d be my guess.” He shakes out his shirt again. “Where’d they get water balloons?”

          Laura raises her hand as she sits up, her legs splayed out wide in front of her. “To the winner go the spoils, sir.” She chuckles again; pointing at herself with both thumbs. “Girls’ Poker night _winner,_ right here.”

          She digs into the lower utility pocket on her right leg and pulls out small colorful pieces of something—what Ronon assumes makes up the water bombs—showing them to Sheppard with a grin of pure childlike glee. “Wanna play?”

          Taking one out of the mix, she plops it between her lips and tries to blow air into it. Her cheeks, full of pressure, turn bright red as though ready to burst from the effort. Finally, the blue thing flies out of her mouth on the force of air, hitting the floor a few feet away. Laura stares at it a moment then gushes with laughter again.

          Jax pushes Laura off her as she grabs a handful of the things—what did Sheppard call them? Water balloons—out of the soldier’s hand and stuffs them down the front of her wet shirt. She gets up with her usual dancer’s grace but stumbles forward and bumps chest-to-chest into Sheppard.

          Ronon’s uncertain it was entirely an accident.

          Jax’s eyes widen as she stares up at her ‘Mr. Perfect,’ her adoration clear. Her hands roam over his slick shirt much like Laura did to Ronon. “Ya know,” she sighs. “I’ve noticed… you’re all muscle, Sheppard.” She flashes a smile that makes Ronon worry about Sheppard’s safety. “Weeet muussscllle,” she drags out the words in a dangerous whisper. One hand continues traveling lower but Sheppard doesn’t seem interested in stopping her sensual exploration. In fact, he looks transfixed in the spot, his eyes on hers.

          Ronon grabs Jax’s wrist, stopping her downward motion. “Ronon…” She pouts then squishes up her nose in the cutest manner. “Party pooper.” She yanks her hand away from him, placing it on Sheppard’s chest again, fingering the top button until it pops free. “Ooh… look what I did.” Sheppard gazes at her as if she’s some of that chocolate the Lanteans enjoy so much.

          “I believe I’ve found them!” From around the corner the beautiful, dark-haired scientist, Dr. Katriana Morgan arrives, a bit weary and impatient. She taps her headset. “Yes, I have them.” This woman’s voice does strange things to Ronon. McKay told him she has an English accent… though she does speak most of the same words as the others who use the language, it sounds very different. There’s such variety in these Earth women.

          “Ugh.” Laura as she groans and gets to her feet.

          “Step-mommy’s home.” Jax glares at the doctor, maneuvering herself slightly behind Sheppard, though her fingers dip into his shirt where she released the button.

          “Sorry, gentlemen,” Dr. Morgan says in that lilting voice.

          Sheppard directs his question at the young scientist. “What’s happening?”

          “Unfortunately, Dr. McKay.”

          “What’d Rodney do now!”

          “Sit and spin.” Laura sputters with a laugh, and drops herself against Ronon, forcing him to steady her again by grabbing her elbows. She leans into him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her free hand on his chest. Again, his eyes leave Dr. Morgan for the lieutenant.

          “Before reading the proper documentation, he had Jax activate a new Ancient device,” the scientist sighs. “And it appears to have infected both women.”

          Sheppard’s clearly still raw to that word considering his recent ordeal. He steps closer to the other woman, forcing Jax’s hand to drop, but he catches it in his; very protective. “Infected?”

          “How?” Ronon’s attention is split between the dark-haired scientist and the soldier with the fiery eyes and flame-hued hair. Laura caresses her lips with her finger, her tongue darting out and licking the fingertip. Ronon swallows hard, pulling his gaze from hers.

          “It’s a small device, looks like a large, polished opal, quite beautiful really. Jax activated it when he asked but then proceeded to play hot potato with Lt. Cadman here… refusing to give the device back to Dr. McKay.” She motions to both women. “And as you can see… it’s left them somewhat—”

          “—erotically charged,” Laura purrs, dipping her hand under Ronon’s shirt; her touch sending sensational shocks of pleasure straight to his… Ronon takes a step away from Laura.

          Alarm bells blare in his head when he hears Jax moan in agreement as she’s nuzzling Sheppard’s neck. Sheppard chuckles deep in his throat; half-heartedly brushing her off. Ronon’s about to help him when Sheppard takes a step back from Jax. “Okay” —he points an authoritative finger at her— “Stop.”

          Jax bites her bottom lip; opens her eyes wide and innocent then that bottom lip is free, pouting like Ronon’s never seen. “Uh… Sheppard?”

          Before the man can react, a crooked little smile plays at Jax’s lips. She grabs Sheppard by the back of the head with both hands and attacks his mouth with hers.

          “Oh, bloody hell, Jax,” Dr. Morgan groans.

          “Go girl!” Laura cheers.

          Sheppard’s a lost cause. Jax’s fingers comb into his hair and his arms wrap around her, pulling Jax in tighter; but Ronon can’t find a logical reason to come to his commander’s rescue. Jax would probably try to kill him for making the effort. In fact, Ronon’s finding it difficult not to grab hold of Laura in the same manner.

          “I think she wants him on her team.” Laura cozies up to Ronon, caressing his face with the same finger she licked then trailing it down his arm. The heat of her body against his, the curve of her hip, the softness of full breasts so tempting. “You can be on me” —she giggles— “my team.” She slaps his rear, “I’ve got your six.”

          Ronon grunts; thoroughly ready to put Laura in her place. Or up against a wall. She smells _so_ good. And his hands move without forethought, one roaming up her back and into that silky soft hair, the other grasping her hand so he can taste her finger.

          “Ladies, please!” Dr. Morgan groans. “Show some decorum.”

          Jax breaks the kiss, leaving Sheppard panting and her smiling. He clears his throat and looks to Dr. Morgan with creased brows. “How long is this supposed to last?” Sheppard looks eager to get a few hours… alone with Jax.

_What would Dr. Weir think?_ Ronon wonders… not that she ever seems to notice the poor man salivating after her. Ronon gives a mental laugh: Sheppard and Jax are more alike than he thought.

          Sheppard’s expression grows serious with concern. “I mean… are they contagious?”

          “Don’t seem to be. They’ve come in contact with several people since escaping the lab. Not for nothing, ladies, you left quite the mess with the water balloons.” She groans and shakes her head, then: “Thankfully no one else has become—”

          “Horny.” Laura chuckles.

          “Overly playful.” Dr. Morgan corrects her. “McKay’s still trying to figure out what happened. Ladies, you need to return with me to the lab. Now.”

          “Ohhh…” they whine in unison.

          Ronon’s pretty sure he didn’t join them in that. Pretty sure Sheppard didn’t either. Poor Sheppard looks like he’s been hit by lightning or something: hair all wild from Jax’s fingers, swollen lips, mouth hanging open, and eyes probably picturing her without so much clothing. Ronon has to avert his gaze from Laura as the same thought plagues him. But when he looks to Dr. Morgan, she’s no longer wearing much of anything either.

          Ronon shakes his head. This is not the time for those thoughts. Something may be wrong with Jax. He has to protect her. Even if that means protecting her from herself.

          Jax draws a finger up over Sheppard’s chest and moves slightly behind his left arm. She tugs at his earlobe. “She is so… British, isn’t she?” Sheppard jerks a bit, making Ronon turn—wishing he hadn’t—as Jax cups Sheppard’s buttocks. “All muscle,” Jax moans, then she makes a strange noise, something akin to ‘woof’. Sheppard turns slightly toward her and they lock eyes again.

          “We need to get them confined… _before_ anything else happens,” Dr. Morgan sighs, at the end of her patience.

          “What happened?” Sheppard manages to break away from Jax’s gaze; shaking his head as though to clear it of the spell she’s cast on him.

          Maybe he’s experiencing the same strange ‘buzz’ in his head as Ronon. Not unpleasant but quite distracting. Only diminishes when he looks at Laura.

          Dr. Morgan tries to keep a stern face, but a hint of a smile slips out. And there it is… the most adorable dimple in her right cheek. “Once they dropped the device, but before we knew what effect it had on them, they grabbed some duct tape and proceeded to play… _Ring Around the Rosy_ with Dr. McKay’s chair.” The two women laugh again, this time louder. Dr. Morgan finishes: “While he was sitting in it.”

          “They taped McKay to a chair?” Sheppard asks and Dr. Morgan nods, still trying to hold back a smile.

          Ronon bursts into laughter along with Sheppard. “Really?” Ronon asks at the same time Sheppard says: “Wow,”—grinning like a kid— “Can I see?”

          “We already released him,” Dr. Morgan says.

          Laura and Jax groan together. “Oh… why?”

          “Because it was wrong of you to do that, ladies.”

          Laura pouts. Her lips are so full and wet. Ronon wants to take her here and now. _Just do it! Push her into the wall and taste her. She wants you to!_ No… he looks away. Something is wrong with her. She’s infected with something that’s making her behave irrationally.

          “But it was so fun,” Jax says.

          “Not to mention, constructive,” Laura adds.

          “Sorry I missed it,” Sheppard tells Jax. He’s staring at her in that trance-like way again. Though not caressing him any longer, Jax still hovers near the man, rubbing her nose against his cheek as though sniffing him. She slips his arm around her shoulders and plays with his fingers, bringing one to her mouth and nipping at it, Sheppard rubs the side of his face against her hair.

          Jax can’t possibly know what she is doing. This is too overt for her. She’s obviously not herself.  Ronon has to stop her before it’s too late.

_But what if she does know?_ If he stops her, she will never forgive him. She’s wanted Sheppard for so long… and he seems to feel the same way right now.

          He wants to protect Jax. But he wants her to be happy as well.

          What if Sheppard is the one needing help, though. He is Ronon’s commanding officer. Ronon swore a Satedan oath to protect the man whether in battle or not.

          Dr. Morgan pronounced the women not contagious; still, Ronon wonders if Sheppard’s reaction to Jax is actually the infection or if the blind man has truly opened his eyes to see the amazing woman waiting for him.

          But if he’s not of his right mind then all three of them could be in trouble. Good thing Ronon’s able to keep his head. He will have to look out for all of them.

          Laura’s hands are on his chest again, moving in slow circles down his stomach. She’s staring up at him with those gleaming, bright blue eyes.

          Jax stands on her toes and says something to Sheppard that makes him smirk then nod.

          Dr. Morgan reaches for Jax. “Back off, Britishney,” she snorts and Laura chuckles. “We’re outta here.” She grabs Laura’s hand and they take off down the corridor as two security guards come at them. Laura pulls Jax to the right and they ditch the security by getting on the transporter.

          “Bloody hell! What took you men so long? We’ve been keeping them distracted waiting for you.” She nods to Ronon and Sheppard. “Nicely done by the way.”

          Ronon raises his brows, glancing at Sheppard. Not sure they had any say in the matter.

          “No one said it was an emergency,” one of the soldiers retorts.

          Starting to lose her cool, Dr. Morgan glowers. “I have to do _everything_ myself! Go on then. Find out where they went.” She narrows her gaze on Sheppard and Ronon. “Are you all right, gentlemen?”

          Sheppard’s hands are in his pockets and he’s rocking on his feet. He raises a brow and nods to her. “Never better.”

          “Good. Like I said. Dr. McKay is working on it. Can’t imagine what the Ancients were thinking about making a device that turns someone instantly… well… playful like that.”

          Sheppard nods, pressing his lips together tight. “They’re a mystery.”

          “Mad buggers if you ask me.”

          “So… only Jax and Lt. Cadman have touched the device?” Sheppard asks.

          “Well, Dr. McKay did as well, but he has not had any reaction. He’s working on it like I said.” She turns to the security detail. “You two, come with me... a bit faster this time, if you would.”

          Ronon nudges Sheppard’s arm. “Think they will find ‘em?”

          “Nope.” He glances up at Ronon. “Seriously… you and Jax. No attraction?”

          “No.”

          “But she is so… there’s something really wrong with you, man.”

          “Considering I have seen her naked. I guess so.” Ronon starts toward the transporter. “What’s the story with Cadman? Love that hair.”

          “She’s got a thing for…” Sheppard follows a bit behind. “Wha… you saw Jax _naked_?”

          “Only a little.” Ronon feels his stomach flop and all his muscles tighten when he thinks about Laura. And that buzz is getting louder, giving him a headache.

          “Well?” Sheppard raises his brows. “Spill, how was it?”

          “How was what?”

          “Jax… naked.”

          Ronon grimaces, pressing his fingers against his temple. “...wrong.”

          Sheppard’s brows crease and his fingers grind into his temples. “What… she’s… wrong?”

          Ronon shakes his head then wishes he hadn’t. “No, man. Seeing her was... I tried not to look.”

          “Definitely something _wrong_ with you, man.”

          Ronon shrugs then growls. “I wish I knew where she went.”

          “Jax?”

          “Laura.”

          Sheppard nods, giving in to a full smile as he steps on the transporter. “I know where they’re going to be.”

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

** ~ ECHO ~ **

          Ronon grumbles, lying back on the gurney, resting his aching head on the flat infirmary pillow. He’s never known this type of pain. And he’s _known_ pain. Even head pain; he’s been ‘concussed’ a few times since joining Sheppard’s team… but _this_ … The blood pumping through his brain is searching for ways out, possibly through his eyes and ears. How did Jax put it after her first night in the infirmary months back: “Who’s the man with the bongos?” For some reason, though he doesn’t know what bongos are, it feels appropriate.

          His head didn’t hurt when he was with Laura. Only after they were found.

          And separated.

          Sheppard’s straddling the gurney next to him while Laura and Jax sit across the room on beds of their own. They’re all under guard by Kellie and Rebecca—the same nurses who helped when Jax was ill—as they wait for Beckett to return with the test results.

          Dr. Weir made an appearance earlier, shook her head then left. Ronon got the distinct impression she was laughing at them.

          Legs dangling over the side of her gurney, elbows resting on knees while hands clutch both sides of her head, Laura’s glaring at no one in particular; her face tight with a pained expression.

          Jax looks a bit confused, though she has that well-established blank mask floating in and out. She’s watching all three of them, possibly assessing who to kill. Ronon’s unsure. It’s a bit disconcerting when her gaze falls on Sheppard and a slight predatory half-grin plays at her lips before the mask falls into place again.

          The past five hours are a blur to all of them, but little snippets flash in Ronon’s mind.

_…In the transporter, Sheppard chooses the south side of The City. Then they are making good time toward the South pier, usually an hour’s walk from the central tower, but they hustle. Strangely, the closer they get, the buzz in Ronon’s head abates._

_When they make it three-quarters of the way to the pier, they find weapons waiting on the floor; something_ _Ronon’s never used before in any battle. He’s intrigued. He presses a finger into the squishy skin of the water balloon. The women left six of them in the middle of the corridor. Sheppard takes the blue and Ronon the green. Female laughter bounce throughout the corridors as they begin their hunt…_

          “Okay, here we go,” Beckett says all too cheerfully as he enters.

          Ronon sits up, grimacing against the headache.

_…He hit Laura with one balloon but missed with the second. Somehow, she sneaks around behind him and gets him twice: once in the back and then in the front as he turns to face her. “Tag, you’re it,” she hops with glee and runs off down the empty corridor, laughing. Ronon follows..._

          “Good news,” Beckett announces. “There’s no infection. In fact, you’re all perfectly healthy adults… though you each have elevated levels of certain brain chemicals.”

          Sheppard narrows his gaze at the doctor. “What chemicals?”

_…Searching for Laura, Ronon checks a small dark anteroom; quickly side-steps it as soon as he catches a glimpse of Sheppard and a happily cornered Jax; he’s got her literally against a wall, his hands traveling up over her hips to her…_

          Beckett raises his brows. “Acetylcholine, phenylethylamine, norepinephrine and dopamine.” Ronon stares at the man, waiting for an explanation, as do the other three. “Would you like a breakdown, Colonel?”

          Sheppard grimaces. “Please.”

          “Okay then. I hope no one here is too bashful—though given how you were… occupied when the search team found Y'all, I doubt there’s any use for that.” He grins. “Here goes. Acetylcholine is a neurotransmitter related to sexual performance and arousal. A surge of phenylethylamine in the limbic system gives feelings of bliss. Norepinephrine mixed with dopamine and the phenylethylamine gives an overwhelming feeling of infatuation.”

          Ronon squints at the doctor from under his brows. “And that means?”

          It’s Laura—Lt. Cadman!—who explains. “We’re high on sex.”

          Beckett nods. “Arousal actually.” He taps his headset. “Rodney, you can come in now and explain how this is all your fault.”

          Both Jax and Lt. Cadman sit up and watch the infirmary door; scowling with deadly intent as McKay comes inside, shoulders hunched, carrying his personal data tablet in front of him. He doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze, keeping his attention on the computer. “It’s not my fault, Carson.” His statement lacks the usual pious attitude Ronon expects from the scientist.

          “Yes it is,” Dr. Morgan says, following him inside. “It is _entirely_ your fault.”

          “If it’s anyone’s… it’s…” he points to Jax. “Hers.”

          “What!” Jax arches her right brow, shooting daggers from her eyes at McKay, though he doesn’t look up to catch them.

          “Not intentionally, of course,” he adds, but it does nothing to quell Jax’s murderous glare.

          “Just tell us what happened, Rodney,” Sheppard’s trying to keep the edge out of his voice, but his gaze is just as dangerous as Jax’s.

_…Ronon’s falling…_

_Following Laura through a door—he forgot she’s a soldier—she comes up behind him and BAM… he’s on the floor, on his back before he can react. His last water balloon drops and bounces away.  A moment later, she’s on him, a knee on each side of his waist; grinding her body into his as she drives her hands under his shirt. Grinning with the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, she slowly lowers her upper body…_

          “I have decoded some of the text regarding the device. Seems it was the Ancients’ idea of Champagne at a wedding.”

          “What?” All four stare wide-eyed at him.

          McKay starts talking fast; almost too fast for Ronon’s sore brain to keep up. “The device apparently was an ancient marital aid, given to women on their wedding night. It accesses part of the brain that releases chemicals that make them…”

          “Erotically charged?” Jax asks when McKay stops.

          “Yes.” He glances at Dr. Morgan then back at his laptop. “It does more than that, however.”

          Dr. Morgan speaks up. “Seems the Ancients also managed to find a way to increase the production and release of pheromones… both aerial and tactile.”

          “Pheromones?” Ronon asks even as Sheppard groans at the word.

          Beckett explains, “Odorless chemical signals individuals release that influence the physiology or behavior of other members of the same species, most notably of opposing gender.”

          “They dramatically increase both desirability and sexual attractiveness in both men and women.” Dr. Morgan adds.

          “And the Ancients took it a step further.” Sheppard nods in understanding.

          “Aye,” Carson says. “They incorporated it into the gene, Colonel, to heighten the… experience. Which would explain well… why you and Jax were so easily afflicted, considering you both have natural ability with the ATA.”

          “I don’t have the gene,” Ronon protests.

          “No,” Beckett nods. “But the device still managed to affect Lt. Cadman with a lower level release of the chemicals, even though she doesn’t have the ATA gene either. So…”

          “It’s a female thing,” McKay says quickly.

          “Excuse me?” Lt. Cadman’s eyes widen.

          “The device was designed specifically with the double-x chromosome in mind, human or Lantean. The woman activates the device, which increases her…” he waves a hand.

          “Arousal,” Beckett supplies. “It’s not a dirty word, Rodney.”

          “Anyway. As stated, it increases the woman’s pheromones, including the ability to transfer them through touch. But what the chemical release also does is increase the senses… so she can…”

          “Sniff out her mate?” Sheppard says ruefully.

          “Pretty much,” McKay finishes.

          Ronon remembers Jax’s behavior around Sheppard. Everything he’s hearing now makes perfect sense with her earlier actions. And possibly why she’s been infatuated with the man since she first saw him. If all this pheromone stuff is true, her brain and body were already attuned to him. It also explains how a simple touch from Cadman could make his own skin tingle.

          “From what I have been able to decipher,” Dr. Morgan speaks up. “By increasing the woman’s desire for her mate and in turn his desire for her, it increased the likelihood of offspring.”

          Jax and Laura exchange glances. “Ahh.”

_… Laura’s leaning over him, pressing her body into his, her mouth so close all he has to do is—_

_“We’ve found them,” Major Lorne says into his radio. When Ronon glances at him, the major is smirking and shaking his head at both of them._

_“Oh, crap,” Laura groans. “We were just getting to know each other.” And she crawls off him, leaving him revved up…_

          Sheppard moves, making the gurney squeak. “So… why didn’t anyone else get affected?” He looks at Dr. Morgan. “You said they ran into other people. I’m assuming other men…”

          “Yes.”

          “And you said it could be transmitted through touch,” Sheppard continues.

          “And Jax touched me,” Ronon says. “No reaction.”

          “Thank God,” Jax groans. Ronon nods agreement at that.

          “But not everyone’s attracted to the same scent,” McKay says.

          “He’s right,” Beckett adds. “The two individuals must already be attracted to each other for the chemical to… activate the libido.”

_…Lorne leads Ronon and Laura out into the corridor, finding Sheppard and Jax already waiting with Dr. Morgan, both looking a bit worse for wear: hair mussed—mostly Jax’s, Sheppard’s hair always looks like that—swollen, well-kissed lips, clothes haphazardly put back together… Sheppard’s missing a couple of buttons from his shirt. And… they’re holding hands…_

          “Really?” Ronon slides his gaze toward Sheppard who’s looking at Jax with renewed interest.

          Sheppard must feel Ronon’s gaze because he turns toward him, sees Ronon’s expression of ‘I-must-hurt-you-now’ and looks down and away, gnawing on his bottom lip. Ronon catches sight of Jax, peering at Sheppard, her eyes wide with shock at the news that Sheppard had to be attracted to her. Her gaze meets Ronon’s and she immediately blanks her expression… too late, however.

          Ronon raises his brows but gets more brain pounding for the action. He groans against the pain again. “Well, the Ancients weren’t too smart… leaving such a nasty price to pay. Can’t imagine anyone wanting to use the thing.”

          “Don’t worry, lad. The headache should dissipate with time. It’s a build-up of the chemicals, you see. It shouldn’t be more than a day for your body to reabsorb them. That is if you stay away from Lt. Cadman.” Beckett’s tone has a serious warning tinge to it. Ronon catches a slight smile from Laura towards Beckett. _Hmmm._

          The doctor continues. “That’s why we’re keeping you at a distance from the ladies. Otherwise, the chemicals would continue to build until…” The doctor’s ears turn pink.

          “Consummation,” Dr. Morgan adds stoically. “It’s the only way to halt the chemicals.”

          Sheppard bites his lip and rubs the back of his neck, looking at the ground. Ronon glances at Jax who is biting her upper lip. She catches him watching and quickly drops her head into her hands as if it hurts. Ronon shakes his head, trying to hide a grin.

          Sheppard looks guilty as hell. _Him_ , Ronon wants to pound into the ground… a couple hundred feet into the ground. He simply feels it’s his duty… for Jax’s honor. But at the same time… he can’t help laughing at both of them.

          Everyone stares at Ronon as if he’s crazy, but he can’t stop laughing.

 


	22. Chapter 22

** ~ FALLOUT ~ **

          Four days after the ‘Pheromone Stone incident’—as it’s been labeled in the report for the SGC—Ronon finds Jax sitting at a table with two other women: Lt. Cadman and a scientist he’s seen on the Daedalus; she hiccups often. They are eating breakfast and laughing. This is the first time he’s seen Jax _or_  Lt. Cadman since leaving the infirmary the other day.

          Catching his eye, Jax waves him over. “Hey,” she smiles.

          “Hey.” Ronon’s surprised; she’s mingling so freely, though her wary eyes reveal she’s once again hiding behind another mask, pleasant but always playing the lie… it must be exhausting. Just another way those men took her life while leaving her breathing. At least she’s trying to expand her circle. Jax is quite personable with a wry wit and she’s enjoyable to be around. Ronon’s happy she’s making friends. “How are you?”

          She nods, chewing her food and swallowing. “Good. You?”

          “Better.”

          Beckett cleared all of them after one _long_ night’s stay in the infirmary. “Boys on one side of the room, girls on the other, just like in school,” Beckett said with a lopsided grin. He squeezed Lt. Cadman’s hand as he left them alone, making her cheeks darken.

          Sheppard tried to include Ronon in some word games, but at his insistence, they played without him. One game lasted most of the night: linking TV and movie titles in a way that made the three of them chuckle. Ronon found it easier to listen and let the sedative Carson gave him work wonders on his ever-increasing headache.

          Laura—Lt. Cadman!—soon succumbed to the drugs as well. Later on, Ronon woke to Sheppard and Jax still playing, though it seemed more of a word dual than a game by then. They were trying to stump each other.

          Jax ultimately won simply because of her unending memory. And possibly due to the fact that she prefers staying awake at all costs. Sheppard finally nodded off, conceding that Jax reigns as Queen of the TV and Cinephiles. _Whatever that means_.

          The next morning Beckett stated their brains were back to normal. Jax disappeared shortly after. Ronon figured she was embarrassed and hiding out. But maybe she was spending time with her new friends.

          “Wanna join us?” she asks.

          Ronon glances at Lt. Cadman. She flashes a quick, thin ‘nothing-happened-we-can’t-forget’ soldier’s smile. He grins back but shakes his head, looking around for an escape; catching Sheppard coming into the mess. “I’m meeting the Colonel.” He shrugs. “Team stuff.” Jax nods with acceptance.

          Sheppard walks behind Ronon, heading straight for the chow line without even a glance at the women. Ronon catches a fleeting hurt look from Jax as her eyes follow Sheppard before she quickly diverts her attention to the plate in front of her.

          Now, Ronon’s eager to have a man-to-man talk with the Colonel about how to treat women—or at least this one; considering what he _knows_ happened between them even if both refuse to admit it. He narrows his eyes after Sheppard; there may need to be some violence involved. Ronon turns back to Jax. “See you later?”

          She grins up at him. “Yeah. Episode thirteen, right?”

          Ronon smiles and nods. “Okay.” Then he heads for the line and slips in behind Sheppard. “Back in uniform.”

          “Yeah. Beckett just released me.”

          “So. Everything is back to normal.”

          “Well, as normal as it gets around here.”

          Ronon glances back at the women; they’re walking out of the mess chatting and laughing. “Okay,” he says to Sheppard. “We need to talk.”

          “About?”

          As he fills his tray, Ronon leans toward Sheppard so that others won’t hear. “What happened.”

          “Could you be more specific?”

          Ronon rolls his eyes. “I could slam my fist into your head to spark your memory. If you’d prefer.”

          Sheppard finishes filling his tray and turns to leave the line. “Do we have to do this here?”

          Ronon follows him to an empty table and they sit across from each other. “Public place keeps you safe… for now.” He digs into his breakfast: scrambled eggs and bacon. These eggs are different. Fluffier. Real! They have real eggs. Probably from the mainland.

          Sheppard dodges Ronon’s gaze as he eats. “Look, I understand if you want to kick my ass—”

          “You do?”

          “But it’s not gonna change anything. What happened was… out of all of our control.” He finally looks at Ronon. “You’re just pissed because you got caught with Cadman too soon and ended up with that nasty hangover headache… and probably a bigger ache lower down.”

          Ronon munches on a piece of bacon, glaring at Sheppard. “No, I’m ‘pissed’ because you just walked by Jax as if she doesn’t exist.”

          Sheppard chokes on his breakfast, coughs and quickly looks around. “Jax is here?” He coughs again, his face reddening.

          “Just left.”

          Sheppard turns back to Ronon, curling his upper lip and raising his brows in concern. “Did she see me do that?”

          “Ah… Yes.”

          He presses his lips together tight, rubbing them against each other then biting his bottom one. “Oh.” His brows crease. “Crap.”

          Ronon continues eating, watching the other man carefully. “It wasn’t on purpose?”

          Sheppard’s face contorts with disgust. “No.” Then embarrassment. “I was… deep in thought as a matter of fact. About this whole” —he waves his fork in a circle— “situation.”

          Ronon leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And what were you thinking?”

          “It is all jumbled up… I don’t know.” Sheppard leans in, whispering. “What do you think I should do?”

          “Talk to her.”

          Sheppard’s eyes dart around quickly and he leans back shaking his head and chuckling uncomfortably. “Oh… no-no-no. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

          “Why not?”

          “Well for one, from what you told me, _she_ might kick my ass.”

          Sheppard’s worry has nothing to do with Jax’s temper. “That’s not it.”

          “What?”

          “You... are afraid.”

          “Yeah… I just admitted that.” He digs into his food again. “Truth be told… I’m not so good with women… one-on-one. Words, timing… foot chewing… it gets ugly fast.”

          Ronon’s mind conjures up some interesting images regarding Sheppard’s last remark. _What does he mean foot chewing?_ He shakes off the thought; probably another of those colloquial things Jax is always teasing him about. He might ask her.

          Ronon stares at Sheppard. “No. Afraid you will be tempted by her again.” He rests his elbows on the table and stabs his fork into the eggs.

          Sheppard stops chewing, his fork motionless mid-air, gaze glued to food hanging from it. Doesn’t look like he’s breathing. His face changes several shades. He swallows hard.

          “Thought you didn’t remember.” Ronon raises a brow. “That good, huh?”

          “Yeah…” Sheppard clears his throat. “What?” He looks pointedly at Ronon, arching both brows. “I’m not having this discussion with you. Beckett said it was the combination of the chemicals and the gene. There’s nothing… leftover—”

          “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Talk to Jax. She’s not dangerous… unless you deserve it.”

          Sheppard shakes his head and leans in for another whisper. “What the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Jax, nice to see you. Funny bumping into you like this?’”

          “Can we do it again sometime?” Ronon chuckles. Sheppard’s annoyed glare makes him laugh harder. “You can’t ignore it, Sheppard. You wanted her then… you want her again. Ancient tech or no. In you’re Earth terms: she’s hot.”

          “Well, yeah… but—” He points his fork at Ronon. “That’s… _not_ what I’m thinking.”

          After a moment of silent eating, a thought pops into Ronon’s head. He’s really enjoying playing with his new commander. Maybe he should up the ante. Force the Colonel to face his fears… one being the evil that is Jax, of course. He grins at the thought, watching Sheppard for a long time, letting him relax a little, think the conversation is over. Then, Ronon motions with his last piece of bacon. “Have you thought about the reason the Ancestors made the device?” He chomps down on the crispy meat.

          Sheppard’s brows knit in confusion then the dawn of understanding widens his terror-filled eyes as they lock onto Ronon’s. “Oh, God.” His brows crease even tighter, Ronon’s concerned they will intersect. “She’s… not… she can’t be… I mean… could…” He shakes his head hard: “nonononono.”

          Ronon shrugs and raises his brows. “How am I supposed to know? She’s been avoiding me for days.”

          Sheppard starts shoveling food into his mouth. “Here’s an idea. She’s your friend. You talk to her.”

          “Is that your natural laziness showing, Sheppard? Or are you a coward?”

          He nods, chewing quickly then shrugs. “Yeah… what? Neither.” He raises his eyes. “Please?”

          Ronon smirks. He would never have believed Sheppard could be afraid of someone… but here he is, terrified of a beautiful woman and all the evil powers she can wield over him. It’s incredibly amusing. Then again, a lot of men in the city seem afraid of Jax, or at least… wary of her. For good reason. But Ronon knows Sheppard has nothing to worry about. As far as Jax is concerned, Col. John Sheppard is God among the lowly male mortals in this galaxy. Still, it’s so much fun watching him squirm, Ronon chooses not to relay that particular piece of information. Might make the guy feel too good about himself. “I will see what I can find out.”

          Sheppard grins with relief. “Good man.”

          “But, it will cost you.”

          His eyes widen. “What?”

          “I will let you know,” Ronon says as he gets up, taking his tray with him. He pats Sheppard hard on the back as he heads out.

 


	23. Chapter 23

** ~ RECALL ~ **

          Ronon gets to Jax’s room shortly after midnight and knocks twice, gives her a moment to yell “go away”—though she tends to use more colorful Earth slang at inconvenient times—then swipes his palm over the control panel, opening the door. She’s sitting at her desk hunched over one of the data pads. “Hey,” she says, not lifting her head.

          “Hey.” He steps inside.

          The laptop’s already set up on a chair; bed turned length-wise against the wall with plump pillows waiting for them to sink into and relax. Most of the time he needs to be moving; leftover energy he harnessed from his Runner days. If not sleeping, then he’s eating or sparring. He could never have imagined sitting idle, watching fictional accounts of life on Earth. But his TV-time with Jax is part of his life now; his routine. Something he hasn’t had since he lost Sateda.

          Aside from learning much about Earth culture and entertainment, sitting with Jax and actually talking not grunting—she pokes him in the ribs if he’s to ‘monosyb-something’—makes him happier than he can say. It reminds him that there are things in life worth fighting for; that his vendetta against the Wraith isn’t all about revenge. It’s about saving his people. And Jax _is_ his people now.

          He glances at her as he drops onto the ‘Poor Man’s sofa’; she’s slouching over the pad and purposely keeping her face hidden from him. “You okay?”

          After a moment, there’s a muffled sniff before she turns off the pad and twists in her chair, facing him with a false grin. “Fine. You?”

          “Good.”

          She rarely keeps a shield up when they’re together. After all, he knows her well by now. But just under the surface mask, there’s something he’s never seen before and it makes his heart thump painfully. She’s sad. “What’s wrong?”

_Sheppard!_ Even if he didn’t mean to, he hurt Jax deeply by ignoring her this morning. Ronon’s going to have to take action.

          “It’s nothing.” She shakes her head, getting up from the chair and sliding onto the bed next to him.

          “Liar.”

          Jax scratches her forehead and even though she speaks softly, he hears the crack in her voice. “I… I remembered what day it is… back on Earth.” She trembles slightly and sighs a soft chuckle. “I can’t believe it’s getting to me this bad.” She sniffs again. “I’m supposed to be… well, you know… Stone cold.” She clicks the computer remote and the show bursts onto the screen as before.

          “You try but don’t always succeed.”

          “So much for years of training, huh?.”

          Ronon ducks his head, trying to catch her gaze, but she’s keeping her profile to him; embarrassed by the emotions toiling within her. “What day is it?”

          Her hand floats to her chest, grazing the spot where the bullet wound used to be, then traveling up to rub her neck. _Ahhh._ Her current state has nothing to do with Sheppard—looks like the Colonel won’t be getting a beating after all—and everything to do with the day she was shot and almost died. The day her parents _did_ die. Right before her eyes.

          Again, Ronon’s mind goes straight to Nally. Watching as the Wraith slammed his hand against her chest and drained her light, took her smile away. Even as she screamed, she refused to give away the family’s location under the floor. They huddled together in the darkness, but Ronon could see through the wood slats. He wanted to break free, but they pulled him back, held him down so he couldn’t fight. A strong hand covered his mouth so he wouldn’t make a sound. But the tears could not be stopped.

          Even as she screamed, Nally stared into the floor, her eyes shining with pain… but also love. She sacrificed herself for five of them that day.

          Ronon shakes off the memory. He would much rather keep the images of Nally’s smiling face, her beautiful long, dark hair with the shell combs, her eyes that twinkled when she looked at him, even when she was cross with him. Nally’s love. That’s what he must remember.

          It must be what Jax is remembering about her parents… they died to help to facilitate her dream. They loved her dearly. He catches her swiping away a tear. She clears her throat. “Why so quiet?”

          Ronon pulls her against his chest and settles his chin on the top of her head. “No reason. What were you reading on the pad?”

          “We got a data burst from the SGC. My… friend—”

          “Secret admirer?” Though he knows the man’s name now, Ronon doesn’t think sharing how he found that bit of information would be a particularly healthy maneuver.

          “Yeah. He forwarded a message from Lily. I didn’t even notice the date at first. Then it just hit me.”

          Ronon wraps both arms around her, pulling her tighter against him. She rests the side of her face against his chest as if listening to his heartbeat. “What was the message?”

          She laughs so quietly he’d have missed it if her body didn’t vibrate against his. “They’re having a girl.”

          “How can they know already?”

          “Earth science is full of surprises.” She turns her head so she can look up at him. “They’re naming her Angela.” Her grin grows watery as tears pool in her eyes.

          “After you.”

          She nods, the tears trickle down the sides of her face and she swipes them away. “Isn’t that sweet?”

          “Yes.” After a moment, Ronon says. “Do you get messages often?”

          “No. Gen… my admirer thinks it’s too dangerous.”

          “But he sends you gifts.”

          “Yeah. He’s great.” Her brows crease. “Though he can be a bit too guy-like sometimes. As long as I live, I will never understand the humor of _The_ _Simpsons_.”

          “Simpsons?”

          She flicks a hand. “Some cartoon. TV show like that _Scooby-Doo_ I showed you. But… _The_ _Simpsons_ is just… it’s a guy thing.” Sheppard’s mentioned that term before. ‘A guy thing’ seems to be the explanation whenever men and women from Earth don’t get along on a topic. She shakes her head. “He sold his cabin.”

          Ronon remembers her mentioning it a time or two. “…his home?”

          “Yeah,” she sighs. “Great property. Isolated, quiet, really green. Great ice pond for skating in the winter.”

          “When were you there?”

          “Before coming here. After they sent Charlie to Spain, the feds wanted to put me back in the system. But my brother made some kind of impression on… _him_. Never can tell what’s gonna click with that guy, how he chooses who he cares about. He’s an odd one, really. Looking at him you’d think he’s all brass, total military. But he’s a teddy bear underneath. He went out of his way to make me welcome and he didn’t even know me. All because he liked Charlie.”

          “He likes you too.”

          “We got to know each other pretty good.” Jax grunts. “He’s a decent chess player. And I kicked his ass at poker. But he can barbeque and he taught me how to fish.” She glances up at him and smiles. “He’s kinda like you in a way.”

          “Me?”

          “Yeah. Rough around the edges. A serious pain in my ass. He refused to keep to himself. Always checked up on me. I mean, it was obvious he knew my deal. But, he liked to push. Finally, when I told him about my parents… it all came flooding back. I actually broke down, sobbing.”

          “You?”

          She chuckles, looking away. “Scary, huh?” Her fingers pick at the hem of her shirt. “He hugged me—even though I fought him—he hugged me and wouldn’t let go. And I started bawling like a baby ‘cause he smelled just like my dad.” She sighs softly. “Same aftershave.”

          Ronon’s quiet. He watches the computer screen, seeing the hero trying to fight off an invasion of bugs in the middle of a jungle.

          “Fuckme!” Jax jumps suddenly and Ronon’s eyes widen in shock—some of the military men have told him what certain curse words mean—until he realizes she’s talking to the computer. “Those ants just ate that guy alive!” She chuckles. “I totally don’t remember that scene.”

          She convinces him to stay for the next episode because it’s on the same disc. Ronon grumbles about needing sleep, but he really doesn’t mind. He finds these times very relaxing and, in fact, generally falls asleep faster after one of their show nights. The last episode ended with a horrible flood that managed to wipe out the bugs and save the hero at the last moment.

          Jax tells him that’s usually how it works in these types of shows. The hero has to survive; otherwise, there’d be no show. “You know, around here… kinda seems like that sometimes,” she adds.

          “What do you mean?”

          “Well, take Sheppard. He flies off on a suicide mission and gets saved by the Daedalus showing up at the last minute. And then there’s The City… McKay managed to get the shield up at just the right moment! Either someone up there”—she points to the sky— “likes most everyone here… except maybe that pony-tailed prick.” She glances at Ronon. “Have you met him? Nasty man.” She waves a hand. “Like I was saying. There’s either a guardian angel hiding out or Sheppard’s got some wicked sweet luck. You know?”

          “Could be.”

          “What’s wrong?” Jax tilts her head. Ronon wrinkles his brows at the question. “When I mention Sheppard, you get all tense.”

          “No.”

          “Yes.” She sits up and stares hard at him. “You talked to him.” She tilts her head the other way. “Didn’t you.” Ronon shrugs. She sighs, shaking her head as though disappointed in his silence. “He’s embarrassed,” she says in that matter-of-fact tone that gives away no emotion.

          “What?”

          “He’s embarrassed it was me. What I did to him.”

          “What you did?”

          She makes a strange face, her brows creasing and her mouth twisting into a lop-sided smirk. “Yeah. I pretty much molested the guy in the hallway.” Ronon laughs and she slaps him on the chest. “What?”

          “Is that all you remember?”

          She nods side-to-side. “It’s mostly fuzzy. Like I was drunk. Really… really drunk.” Her eyes narrow. “I know I nailed Cadman with a balloon.”

          “Yeah,” Ronon chuckles. “Then you did that little dance. That…”

          She nods, grinning. “Oh, my victory dance. I remember.” Her eyes widen and she sucks in a lungful of air. “OhMyGawd!” Her mouth hangs open and if her eyes were any wider, they would pop out of her head and hit the floor. “Did I squeeze his ass?”

          “After you kissed him.”

          Mouth gaping, she audibly sucks in more air then buries her face in her hands. “I didn’t!”

          “As though the universe might end.” Ronon grins. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t offended.”

          She peeks at him between her fingers. “Really?”

          “Just as Beckett said. There had to be some attraction to begin with… the whole pheromone thing.”

          Her smile’s small but filled with delight. “That’s true.” Then her brows crease again and she looks down, talking to herself. “So, what happened next?” She chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking. “More balloons. No… transporter. Then balloons.”

          She gets off the bed in a huff. “Damn. Why can’t I remember?” Hands on hips she turns and scowls at him. “It’s not right, you know. The Ancients going all out of their way to make this… thing… and then forgetting that their people might actually want to remember what happened instead of just the _feelings_ of it.”

          “In the infirmary, you looked like you knew… about you and Sheppard.”

          She rolls her eyes and her head to the side. “I… knew… in a way. But I didn’t _know_ —I mean, really know—until the doc mentioned the…” she waves her hand in the air. “You know, headache cure.”

          Ronon smirks. “Consummation?”

          She rubs her neck, not meeting his gaze. “Yeah, that.”

          “So, what _did_ you know… before you knew?”

          A little smile raises the corners of her mouth and she blushes. “Feelings…” she shrugs and bites her upper lip. “Multiple… feelings.”

          Ronon doesn’t understand, but whatever those ‘feelings’ were, Jax seems very happy about them. Her eyes glisten at the thought. “Love?”

          She shakes her head quickly. “Ohhellno.” She snorts a laugh. “Not emotion.”

          “I don’t understand.”

          She pats his shoulder. “I’m not surprised.”

          “I don’t think Sheppard’s embarrassed it was you,” Ronon says, getting back on track. “I believe his concern is… well… that he took advantage of you.”

          She blesses him with a broad and joyful grin. “Isn’t that sweet! He’s such…” she groans with pleasure. “Okay. I feel better. I just wish…”

          “Yes?”

          She wiggles a little in place. “That I could remember it all; considering it’s the one time I’ll ever get with him.”

          “Who knows… maybe not.” Ronon grins slyly and Jax catches his gaze.

          She points a warning finger. “Don’t play with me, Dex. I’ll kick your ass.”

          “You’ll try and fail.”

          She whines a little. “Ohhh, spill. What’d he say about me?” Her eyes narrow again. “Ohgawd, I sound like a teenager!” She waves a hand. “Whatthehell. Spill.”

          “He didn’t say anything. But he’s attracted to you… obviously.” That makes her grin again. “But I do not think you should try molesting him in hallways anymore.”

          She raises that single brow. “Worked well the first time.”

          Ronon laughs. After a moment, he remembers what he really needs to ask, even though he doesn’t feel it’s his place. “Have you…”

          “What?”

          “Spoken to the doctor about… what happened?”

          “Nope. It’ll just fuel the rumors. I didn’t even tell Cadman and she was there.”

          Ronon shifts on the bed suddenly wanting to run from the room. “I’m just wondering…  about the reason the Ancestors made—”

          “Oh… unsafe sex. I seriously doubt the man’s got any…” she stops, watching him, seeing the confusion in his face. Something sparkles in her eyes and she nods: “Gotcha.”

          “Huh?”

          “Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetie.” She kisses the top of his head. “No babies from this girl.”

          Ronon’s still not comfortable but now he’s intrigued. “How can you know?”

          To his surprise, Jax pulls down her sweatpants a little and exposes a small white scar in the middle of her lower stomach below her navel. “That is why.” She pulls up her pants. “I had a little bit of surgery about five years into my government funded captivity.”

          “Surgery?”

          She waves her hand. “No inside girlie parts, well two out of three. The big one is all gone. Thankfully! Saved me tons on products, not to mention never getting killer cramps again.” Ronon stares at her, not understanding a word. She smiles. “I can’t have babies. No worries.”

          “I’m… sorry.”

          Jax scoffs. “Please. I knew when I was twelve that I never wanted to get pregnant. Vomiting, swollen feet, stretch marks, bad back, excess hormones. Hell—that’s what that is. 40 weeks in hell.” She laughs, waving both her hands in the air. “No maternal instinct what-so-ever, here. And I’m nobody’s role model. Don’t get me wrong, I like kids but just the ones that will eventually… go away. That’s the great thing about this place, you know? No kids. Well, except for the ones on the mainland. I was a happy camper when they stopped running through the halls.”

          Ronon’s never heard a woman speak this way. All he’s ever known is that females strive to become mothers, raise strong families. He’s even more disturbed by the fact that she’s so happy about this. “You really… like this?”

          “Hell yeah,” She laughs. “My mother went nuts when I told her to stop giving me baby dolls to play ‘mommy’ with. She kept telling me I’d change my mind… that someday…” She stops, her eyes getting sad again. “Well. She didn’t get to see that someday because it never came.” She shakes off the emotions. “I figured, who knows me better than me? Losing that annoying piece of monthly torture was the best decision of my life. I got cramps on the ice during a triple and it was like a knife to the gut. Getting rid of it was... freeing actually. One less curse to deal with.”

          Ronon watches her for any sign that she’s not being completely truthful with him, but there’s nothing. She truly believes that not having children is best. Ronon knew Jax still had mysteries hidden beneath the surface, but he would never have imagined something so… different. How could she not want children? It doesn’t make sense. How else can people survive the Wraith?

          Her brows raise and narrow with concern. “You okay, Ronon?” He’s speechless. Deep down, he knew there had to be things about her that he wouldn’t like, but something so… unnatural as— “Ronon?”

          “I don’t understand… why?”

          “You want my list of reasons? It is pretty long and kinda cynical.”

          “But with the Wraith…”

          Jax’s head rolls sideways: “Oh.” She nods. “Okay. Where I come from, there are _a lot_ of people. Too many, in fact, for the planet to accommodate. Now, I’m not altruistic, I did this strictly for myself. When I mentioned monthly torture… I wasn’t exaggerating. I was in pain from day one with that human-making-oven. I swear it tried to kill me once or twice; knocked me to my knees actually. I even got cramps when I was supposed to be having a good time… but that’s not what guys want to hear… never mind that. For the most part, women on Earth get to have and enjoy sex just like men and decide whether or not to procreate—or at least they still could when I left.”

          Her gaze zooms in on his. “And I just told you about the happy parents to be. Lily’s over-the-moon thrilled and going to be popping out the first of the next generation in about five or six months.” Jax grins. “She’s going to be a cool mom. That’s for damn sure. And Charlie… very cool dad.” Jax tilts her head, staring at him, trying to convince him. “So, you see. There’s never going to be a shortage of people on Earth.”

          “Unless the Wraith get there.”

          “Yeah, well. There is that.” There’s a wicked flicker in her eyes. “Then again, if the Wraith could go? I’d pony up every single politician, religious official and power-hungry megalomaniac and sport-hunter to be first on their to-suck-dry list.” Ronon believes she’s joking. Maybe.

          She slaps his arm playfully. “Don’t worry big guy. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities for little rug-rats of your own. Who knows, maybe I’ll even babysit.” Her right brow pops up into a sharp-edged arch. “For an hour at most.” Her eyes slide away then back to him, gaze narrowed. “When they’re sleeping.” Her newest grin makes Ronon quite sure she’s not joking now.

          They stare at each other for a long time. She’s clearly worried that this is one too many secrets; that he sees her differently because she made this choice.

          Ronon’s never been to Earth, can’t really imagine a planet with too many people on it, let alone women who wish not to have children. But that’s him. He knows they have differences, they have to… she’s from a whole other galaxy, a single planet with more than 7 billion people—which is something he can’t really contemplate. Her smile falters as she waits for him to say something. Ronon takes a deep breath. “No maternal instinct?”

          She sighs with relief: “Not a drop.”

          He nods, finding a small smile. “Sheppard will be relieved.”

          “I’m sure he will.” Both brows shoot up. “You don’t think he’d find that enticing… never mind.” She folds her arms under her breasts, watching him. “You know if it’d been Teyla instead of Cadman under the influence; you’d have been worrying about the patter of little feet as well.”

          “You think so, huh?”

          “Yeah, I’m psychic.” She sits on the bed again. “Plus, whenever she looks at you… it’s lusty.”

          “Lusty?”

          “C’mon. You’re hot… she’s hot—”

          “You think I’m hot?”

          She slaps his chest. “I’m not blind. Just got a single-track mind is all.” She starts a droll in a low uninflected voice: “John Sheppard, John Sheppard, John Sheppard,” she smirks. “It’s like a mantra really. Besides, you know you’re _allthat_.” Jax shrugs. “And, Teyla is a wu-man… sure she’s got all the parts and the maternal instinct to use ‘em.”

          “You see that?”

          “Yep. And I’m not alone either. Seems you’re a hot topic at girl’s poker night.” She laughs. “Well, according to Cadman, everyone’s a hot topic… but mostly the men. She’s invited me to their next game.”

          Ronon’s grinning, now. Jax’s special… he’s known that for a while. He can’t judge her decisions. They are a part of who she is; though, he does wonder what might be at the top of her list of reasons. He can guess somewhere on it there’s something about not wanting to bring a new life into a world that kept taking away those she loved. “So. You and Cadman are staying friends?”

          She pats his leg then leans back against him again. “Yeah, we bonded over the whole water balloon/pheromone debacle. She’s cool. But…”

          “What?”

          “It’s hard having to lie so much, especially now.”

          “Why?”

          “Because silly. I’m getting all comfy. I might slip, let out a bit of truth; get myself in trouble.”

          “Out here?”

          “Hey, you never know with those guys,” she sighs, though Ronon doesn’t sense any fear coming from her. She feels safe here. “Gotta keep myself top secret. Just the way it is.” She leans her head against his shoulder and looks up at him. “Don’t you feel special,” she smiles. “You’re the only one who gets to know me: Angie.” Her tone’s playful, but her eyes flicker as if she’s worried he doesn’t want to know her.

          Ronon kisses her forehead. “Yes. I’m very lucky.” Jax sighs and nestles in to watch the rest of the show.

 


	24. Chapter 24

** ~ HINDER ~ **

          “We found it!” Sheppard announces proudly as he and Ronon enter Dr. Weir’s office. Her eyes widen as she looks Sheppard over—wet from the top of his spiky black hair to his boots—and quickly shuts the door, “shushing” him. They move to the far end of the office, out of sight of the glass walls, and the Colonel sits on the sofa next to her.

          Ronon leans against the wall, arms crossed, legs and back cold and stiff from their recent adventure. Both Teyla and McKay headed for their quarters and hot showers as soon as the team returned to The City. He wants that hot shower also and to change out of his leather trousers, but Sheppard asked him to come along. Wet leather isn’t meant to be worn. But his friend and commander comes first.

          Sheppard describes the planet to Dr. Weir with enthusiastic details, grinning and nodding toward Ronon as if asking him to back up the information—which Ronon does with his own nod. Sometimes the Colonel isn’t as confident as he seems. He’s terribly eager to please Dr. Weir… and possibly Jax now that he knows why finding the perfect planet is so important.

          He would never admit it, but Sheppard _is_ excited about seeing Jax do this ‘ice skating’ exercise. To be truthful, after watching her dance, Ronon’s intrigued to see it as well.

          He cracks his neck, trying to loosen the tight muscles gained over the past few hours. His dreadlocks, damp from the snowball fight, hang heavier than usual, straining his head and neck; a reminder of the unusually stealthy attack on him by his teammates. His revenge on the traitors is a sweet memory that makes him smirk. Teyla, McKay, and Sheppard should have known better than to gang up on him.

          The team spent several hours playing in the snow, but Dr. Weir doesn’t need to know that information. Ronon hasn’t had that much fun in nearly ten years. And he’s never seen Sheppard so ecstatic about something. The man truly is a boy at heart.

          “Sounds perfect.” Dr. Weir grins, her eyes twinkle with delight. Ronon doesn’t know how old she is, but when she smiles, she looks years younger and extremely beautiful. No wonder Sheppard’s so enamored with her. “Now, all I have to do is get that damn red-tape cleared up,” she grumbles.

          “Still no word?” Sheppard asks.

          She shakes her head. “I’m tempted to send a message directly to the General.” She glances at them; her eyes widen again and she bites into her bottom lip realizing she let something slip.

          “General…?” Sheppard raises his brows and grins at her. “Which General?”

          Dr. Weir gives him a tight-lipped smile, then: “The Daedalus arrived while you were out. We have fresh fruit and vegetables and a new shipment of chocolate candy bars. Oh, and the massage tables have come in, finally.”

          Sheppard’s eyes brighten even as a slight blush creeps up his neck. He clears his throat. Ronon shakes his head at the man. It’s been weeks and still Sheppard’s afraid to be alone with Jax. The man’s not that subtle about his constant attraction these days. Whenever she’s around, he turns into a sputtering fool, stammering over his words and glancing at her in quick glimpses, unable to look her in the eyes. But when she’s not looking at him, his heated gaze follows her and could sear off her clothing. It’s very amusing.

          It’s different than how Sheppard deals with Dr. Weir. In her presence, he smiles easily, relaxes into a conversation, and his eyes always seek out hers. And when she leaves, his gaze follows her with longing and a hunger tinged with a bit of sadness. Maybe they have history Sheppard has not disclosed. Ronon wouldn’t be surprised. As relaxed and engaging as the man is, he’s not one to overshare his personal information. Ronon realizes Sheppard and Jax have much more in common than either think.

          A hard knock on the door startles the three of them. “Come in,” Dr. Weir calls.

          Col. Steven Caldwell steps inside: back straight, knees locked—to make him taller—hands clasped behind his back; supremely militant, with ‘a major stick up his butt’ per Jax. He looks them over one at a time with narrowed eyes and a tight, grim mouth. He sometimes reminds Ronon of one of those Scooby-Doo cartoon villains. “The Daedalus is still unloading. Where should I have the tables sent?”

          Dr. Weir slides off the sofa, crosses to her desk and grabs the data tablet with a detailed map of The City. “We have three small ante-rooms off the infirmary set aside for massage therapy.” She points out the locations on the pad. “They’re right next to each other. And quite close to a transporter.”

          “Very well.” He turns to leave.

          “Colonel?” Dr. Weir’s voice stops him and he turns back around to face her again, those hard eyes leaning toward threatening. Either Dr. Weir doesn’t see it—which Ronon doubts; she’s very astute—or chooses to ignore the implied violence. “Mail delivery for my people?”

          The Colonel nods; his face revealing more emotion than Ronon’s sure the man wants to show. For a military leader, he’s quite easy to read when it comes to Sheppard and Dr. Weir. The man can’t hide his resentment.

          From what Sheppard told Ronon, Caldwell expected to take over as military commander of Atlantis following the victory over the Wraith. However, Dr. Weir refused to let Sheppard be usurped because of his rank. She demanded his promotion so he would keep his position. Apparently, Caldwell has yet to get over it. Someone should point out to him… he is the commander of a _spaceship_.

          “It’s already been handled,” Caldwell says.

          “Handled?” Dr. Weir snaps. Her eyes harden and she takes a step around her desk, stalking toward the older man.

          “I had several of my staff deliver it already.”

          “Really?” She leans a hip against the side of her desk, arms crossed under her breasts, seemingly relaxed but anger shines in her eyes.

          Sheppard and Ronon lock gazes. Ronon wonders if they should leave, but the amused glint Sheppard’s giving him says: _I want to see this._ So, they silently watch the battle of wills.

          Dr. Weir tilts her head, her eyes steady on Caldwell. “That’s hardly protocol, Colonel.”

          “I felt it would be easier, given your workload. Save you some time.”

          Ronon doesn’t believe him. Caldwell holds too much anger inside to do anything simply out of kindness. Given Sheppard’s eye-roll and Dr. Weir’s tight-lipped expression, neither believes the man’s actions are without motive.

          “You _felt_ that, did you?” She sneers, though still keeping her tone level, professional. “In the future, Colonel, please refrain from trying to make my workload easier. I happen to enjoy handing out the mail. Let’s me keep in touch with my staff. Who are, after all, _my_ staff.”

          Before Caldwell can rebut, an alarm erupts throughout The City. Sheppard’s on his feet, out the door, and in the Control Room before anyone blinks. Ronon’s behind him followed by Dr. Weir and finally the Colonel.

          The Stargate engages. The shield comes up. “Unscheduled off-world activation,” Chuck announces.

          “Who is it?” Dr. Weir and Sheppard say at the same time, moving as one unit toward the technician.

          The wormhole shuts down an instant later, leaving everyone staring at the gate in wonder.

          “Data burst, Dr. Weir,” the tech tells her. “From the SGC.”

          “E-mails?”

          Chuck shakes his head. “No, ma’am. Single message for you. Confidential.”

          Dr. Weir tenses, not that anyone other than Ronon or Sheppard might notice. Sheppard knows her too well and Ronon can read people. Her spine stiffens almost imperceptibly and her face tightens just enough to show a single line creasing down the center of her forehead. “Send it to my datapad.” She locks eyes with Sheppard before returning to her office. Both Sheppard and Caldwell follow so Ronon tags along as well. Dr. Weir sits at her desk and taps on her datapad. After several moments of silence, in which Ronon senses more changes in Dr. Weir’s demeanor—her breathing increases and her muscles twitch as though readying for a fight—she raises her gaze, lets out a harsh exhale and stares daggers at Caldwell.  “Well, Colonel, seems like I’m not the only one who’s going to be surprised by the change in protocol.”

          “Like I said, doctor. I just felt it would be easier—”

          “Well,” she stands, slamming her hands flat on her desk. “I will be sure to include your _feelings_ in my report to General O’Neill.” Caldwell’s face loses some of the smugness and his upper lip twitches. Dr. Weir turns to Ronon, her gaze softening… and filling with worry. “Have you seen Jax today?”

          “She has mess duty. I was joining her after—”

          Dr. Weir nods. “I would appreciate it if you could bring her here… immediately.”

          Sheppard steps closer to her. “What’s going on, Elizabeth?”

          “Sorry, John.” She shakes her head. “Classified.” She glances back at Caldwell. “I believe you have a ship to unload, Colonel.” Caldwell nods and heads out, giving Sheppard a glare as usual. Dr. Weir takes her seat again. Worry creasing her brows. “Please Ronon. It’s important.”

          Ronon nods once and leaves.

 


	25. Chapter 25

** ~ SNAFU ~ **

          “She’s not here,” Owen says, wiping down a table. Ronon didn’t have a chance to ask about Jax before the older man spoke. Being the head of four cooks in The City, Owen knows Ronon comes to the mess hall for two reasons: food or Jax. Lunch is over; dinner’s still a few hours off.

          “Isn’t she working third shift?”

          Owen nods. “Supposed to be. She was here but left in a huff a while ago. Don’t know why, I was just coming in. But you of all people know how she can get.”

          He does. But he also knows Jax takes her work in The City seriously. He can’t think of a reason for her to leave ‘in a huff’. Thanking Owen, Ronon goes into the kitchen finding Cassie washing the lunch dishes and trays while Jeff dries. They work as a unit, switching chores every shift. They’re friendlier with him since that first night when Jax washed his hair. Like most everyone in Atlantis, they were wary when he first came to stay. No one really knew what to expect from him. Even Sheppard kept his guard up. Now he’s part of the expedition, accepted as anyone else… well anyone other than Jax.

          She still feels like an outsider; probably because she can’t be truthful about herself or her past. That has to be stressful. Lately she’s been more outgoing, spending time with Cadman and the other women at their poker night but the lying has been getting to her. Ronon imagines she must have been terribly lonely this past year. Maybe that’s why they found each other. He spent seven years alone on the run and she’s had eight. 

          “Hey, Ronon,” Jeff and Cassie say together.

          Jeff’s a good kid, but not the ‘brightest crayon in the box’ Jax told him. “Even a one-way trip to a new galaxy needs janitorial staff though.” He’s the kid brother of one of the soldiers. They didn’t have any other family to take him in, so he came with Sgt. Stackhouse. Cassie is some ‘One-Percenter’s’ kid. She was going to end up in jail or dead for one reason or another, so she got on the short list to Atlantis too.

          “Do you know where Jax went?”

          “Nope,” they say at the same time again.

          Cassie looks up from her work. “She was pissed though. Haven’t seen her like that in… forever. Not since you two got together.”

          Ronon’s heard the rumors; he and Jax decided not to bother fighting them. No one seems to understand that a man and a woman can care about each other without physical attraction getting in the way. It does make him feel good that others have seen a change in her since they entered each other's lives. Ronon would never have imagined himself as a good influence on anyone. “What upset her?”

          “Who knows,” Jeff shrugs. “She’s always a bit… moody, but I try to stay away from her when she’s truly upset.”

          “Smart move.” ‘Moody’ doesn’t do Jax’s general attitude justice. _What could have upset her so much she’d run even from him?_ “If you do see her, tell her I need her.”

          “No problem,” again at the same time.

          “Peas in a pod,” Jax joked. “And they never would have met if not for the expedition.”

          Neither would he and Jax. She’s become very important to his daily well-being. Dr. Weir’s worry makes him all the more anxious to find her. Something is very wrong… he can feel it in his stomach.

*** §**   *****

          Ronon knocks on Dr. Weir’s door, even though it’s open. She looks up from her work. Her face falls and the worry line returns. “Where is she?”

          “She left work early, in a bad mood. I’ll find her.”

          “Shit!” she hisses, turning away from him.

          Ronon’s learned most of American English vernacular curse words from Sheppard and McKay—mostly McKay, who yells out two or three at a time when he’s working and a project or experiment doesn’t go his way. This is the first time he’s ever heard Dr. Weir use one.

          Two steps inside and he’s at the edge of her desk, leaning on it. “What is happening?”

          She holds up a finger as her other hand taps her headset. “Col. Sheppard, please come to my office.” She shakes her head. “Damn Caldwell. Damn the military’s Classified crap and outdated procedures!”

          “Something _has_ happened.”

          She nods as she gets up from her chair. “This is a difficult situation.” She turns away from him and starts pacing, running her fingers through her dark hair. “Damn them! I should have been informed. He should have gotten to me sooner. This should never have happened.”

          Sheppard rushes in. “What’s up?” He must have been nearby to make it so quickly. Then again, the moment Dr. Weir calls to him, Sheppard’s eager to get to her. He could have been halfway around Atlantis and he’d run all the way here, just for her. But he’s not out of breath; so, he wasn’t too far away.

          Dr. Weir turns to both of them, her hands on her hips. “Jax needs to be found right away.”

          “She wasn’t—” he looks at Ronon who shakes his head. Sheppard shrugs, turning back to Dr. Weir. “Go citywide, give her a holler.”

          “That’s not a good idea,” Dr. Weir says. “I doubt—”

          “—I can find her.”

          “It’s a big city, Ronon,” Sheppard says.

          Ronon shakes his head. “If she’s upset there are only a few places she will go. I _will_ find her.”

          “Not fast enough, I’m afraid.” Dr. Weir looks at Sheppard. “Coordinate with Major Lorne, Sgt. Stackhouse and Lt. Franks for a city search.”

          Sheppard closes the gap between them. “Elizabeth. We need to know what’s happening.”

          Ronon watches emotions and conflict cloud the leader’s face. She desperately wants to tell but is not permitted. One thing about Dr. Weir, she’s a woman of trust and conviction. She does not break that trust even at crucial times. It’s a matter of honor. But Ronon knows Jax; knows the secrets. “Is she in danger?” he asks, prompting Sheppard to stare to him with questions in his eyes.

          Dr. Weir nods. “I believe so… yes.”

          He and Sheppard share a look; Sheppard somehow sensing what Ronon wants to tell him. Sheppard nods and they leave Dr. Weir’s office; going into the Control Room where Sheppard orders the internal sensors on so they may find anyone in The City. “Sorry, Colonel,” Chuck says. “Dr. Zelenka’s running maintenance tests on the board.”

          Sheppard taps his earpiece. “Zelenka, this is Sheppard. How soon can you get the sensors up?” He waits. “Well, that’s not good enough.” With a huff, Sheppard peers over his shoulder at Ronon. “Guess we do it the old-fashioned way.”

          “Which is?”

          “Our eyes. Let’s go.”

**~ § ~**

          Sheppard calls the three other teams plus McKay and Teyla to meet in the Gate Room in five minutes, full gear.

          Ronon doesn’t wear anything extra except his radio. He already has his gun; he never leaves his quarters without his gun. Sheppard told him once that it was against policy to carry weapons in Atlantis when not on a mission. Ronon simply stared at him in silence. After a while, Sheppard shrugged and said: “Okay then.” And that was the end of the discussion.

          Once everyone’s gathered near the gate, Sheppard sends Stackhouse’s team to the South Pier: site of the water balloon battle. Lorne’s team gets the West pier: Jax’s private dance room. Franks’ team will hit the East pier for the workout gym—Jax does love to beat up that big bag. AT-1 will check the Northside. Ronon’s sure she will be at her secluded shooting range—even though she hasn’t been down there since the attack by Bugman—and he doesn’t want just anyone coming upon her while she has a gun or knife in her hand.

          “Radio-in the moment you’ve spotted her. She’s probably in a bad mood, but that _does_ _not_ mean you get to shoot her, got it?” Sheppard’s joke breaks the tension for a moment. “It’s important we find her and bring her to Dr. Weir A-sap. I can’t give you more than that. As it is need to know… and I… well… don’t.”

          Stackhouse and Lorne exchange glances. Lorne says: “So… Situation normal…”

          Franks nods. “All fucked up.”

          All three lead their groups to the nearest transporter.

          McKay and Teyla stay. “What’s so important about her, suddenly? Someone needs a bitching partner?” McKay asks.

          Sheppard glowers at the scientist. “You’re one to talk, McKay. After what you did to her.”

          “What I… that was not my fault. And need I remind you; she taped me to a chair! Then spun it around so fast it made me nauseous… I could have aspirated my own vomit and died!”

          “Seriously over exaggerated as usual, McKay,” Sheppard stated. “And she had help.”

          “Yes,” McKay hisses: “Cadman. She’s convinced Jax not to activate anything for me unless I read all the information to her beforehand.”

          “As you should have from the beginning,” Teyla says. She turns to Ronon. “You know her best. You believe she will be on the North side?”

          “Yes.”

          “Then let’s go,” Sheppard says, taking point going to the transporter.

*** ~ § ~ ***

          Stepping off the transporter both Sheppard and Teyla stop for a moment to look around… remembering.

          Ronon knows how hard it was for Teyla to shoot at the Colonel even though he’d transformed into a beast. But it was even harder for her _not_ to shoot him when he moved to attack her. She’s gone beyond the incident, but seeing the corridor again seems to have brought it back to both of them.

          Sheppard’s wary as he looks around. Ronon takes point with McKay straggling along on their six. They have some walking to do before getting to the room. He told them not to call out to her. She’ll be angered enough that he’s exposed her sanctuary to unwanted eyes.

          As they pass the corridor off-shoot where Ronon found Jax in aftermath of Bugman’s attack, Sheppard stops and stares down it. His brows crease and confusion floods his face and eyes.

          “Colonel?” Teyla asks, touching his shoulder.

          He shakes his head. “I just had the strangest feeling…”

          “What?” McKay asks.

          Sheppard tilts his head and catches his lower lip under his tongue, thinking. “I was sure she’d be down there.”

          Teyla knows what happened and has sworn not to inform Sheppard, though she doesn’t like keeping things from the Colonel. She looks to Ronon. “Should we go that way?”

          “No.” Ronon continues down toward the pier, expecting them to follow.

*** ~ §§~ ***

          Red lights glow into the corridor but no sound echoes from the large room; Ronon knows before entering that Jax isn’t inside. She was… recently, however; the room’s a mess. Something drove her to shred most of the used target sheets and toss them around the room. Sheppard, Teyla, and McKay follow him in, only to stop and nearly bump into each other when they see the room.

          Sheppard bends and picks up some of the torn pieces littering the floor. He holds up two halves of one used target, the red-light bleeds through the precision center mass shots, and the single one in the forehead. Sheppard turns to Ronon with a glare: “You should have told me about this.”

          “Why?”

          Sheppard makes a face. “Because.”

          “Good argument, Colonel,” McKay nods and gives the ‘two-thumbs-up’ gesture.

          Teyla’s moving along the far wall, studying the targets still attached there. Aside from the bullet holes in the exact same locations on all four of the pieces, they’re all tacked to the wall with Jax’s daggers through each silhouette’s head.

          “She’s extremely talented with weapons.” Teyla grips the hilt of one knife, giving it a good pull, with some effort it comes free. “And remarkably strong for someone so small.”

          “You’re one to talk,” Sheppard grins at Teyla. She smiles back at him. Sheppard calls her ‘The Little Dynamo’ whenever she takes someone down on a mission.

          “We need to get back,” Ronon announces. She should have been here. _This_ is her place.

          Sheppard taps his headset. “Sheppard here. Anybody found her yet?”

          “No, Sir,” Franks answers.

          “Not here.” That’s Stackhouse.

          “If this is hide-n-seek,” Lorne says, “We’re losing.”

          “She’s not armed… right?” McKay glances around, eyes wide with fear. “I mean, she wouldn’t come at us. Right?”

          Ronon’s gaze follows Sheppard to the table. Jax’s red bag lies next to her handgun. Sheppard picks up the gun, checks it. “Fully loaded. Safety off.”

          Jax _never_ leaves her weapons behind. And she never leaves her gun with the safety off. Ronon taps his headset. “Dr. Weir?”

          “Ronon? Go ahead.”

          “I suggest you check Jax’s quarters. She’s not where I expected her to be.” Her room is that last place he’d think to find her. Since being locked inside alone those three nights not so long ago, she only spends time in it with him, watching TV shows.

          “I already thought of that, Ronon.” Dr. Weir sighs.

          The worry in her voice, finding the practice room in this state and deserted leaves Ronon with a cold pit of… fear… in his stomach. Maybe she’s someplace _he_ would go. “I have another idea.”

          Ronon leads the way to his favorite balcony.

          Empty.

*** ~ §§§~ ***

          Two hours later, Ronon and Sheppard are back in Dr. Weir’s office. Ronon’s too wired to keep still. There’s been no trace of Jax, leaving everyone on edge, but especially him. If she’s in trouble why didn’t she come to him?

_Because I was off-world!_ Maybe she tried but he wasn’t here.

          “She didn’t go to the mainland,” Dr. Weir states.

          “Why would she? No one there knows her.” Ronon snaps. “But no one besides me would know that! Do any of you really know anything about her? Or care?”

          “Ronon,” Sheppard flashes a sour look.

          Dr. Weir doesn’t react; she calmly replies: “I just meant she’s here somewhere. And yes, Ronon. We care. That’s why I want you to find her. You’re certain she doesn’t have some other place she would go to… hide.”

          “Hide?” Sheppard’s brows shoot up. Dr. Weir slides her eyes at him then back to Ronon.

          Ronon shakes his head. He knows Jax better than anyone and yet, he can’t find her when he needs to most. “Why didn’t Zelenka turn the machine back on right away?” He looks out the big office window to the Control Room; McKay’s ordering people around while he works on the location machine. “What is taking so long?”

          “Atlantis systems are tricky,” Sheppard says. “Some computers can only be turned back on after the updates are complete.” He shrugs. “Like early versions of Windows.”

          Ronon stares at him.

          Sheppard drops his gaze to his boots. “Sorry, man.”

          A frustrated growl rumbles from Ronon’s chest and up his throat. His fists clench and he spins away from both of them, raises his right fist—

          “DON’T!” Sheppard and Dr. Weir yell at him.  

          Ronon turns back to them, confused.

          “It’s a very expensive window,” Dr. Weir says. She glares at Sheppard. “And takes months to get fixed.”

          Sheppard makes a face. “Hey! I was under the influence of a retrovirus.”

          Understanding dawns on Ronon. “You thought I was going to break the window?”

          The leaders exchange glances. “Well… yeah.” They say together.

          “I would never do that with my fist.” Ronon takes a step toward Sheppard. “Why injure myself when I could just use your head?” Sheppard backs up a nudge.

          Heavy silence.

          Then Dr. Weir starts laughing. Both Ronon and Sheppard stare at her. Ronon joins her with a small chuckle then Sheppard does the same, melting the tension.

          McKay bursts into the room. “I’ve got her.”

          “What?” Dr. Weir shoots out of her chair. “Where?”

          McKay heads to the Control Room and they all follow. McKay points at the Internal Sensor board that’s finally fully functional. “I managed to bypass the final restart. We only have a few minutes before it shuts down to reboot itself.”

          “So, where is she?” Dr. Weir asks.

          “It’s the strangest thing, really. I wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t been—”

          “McKay,” Sheppard says at the same time Dr. Weir snaps: “Rodney!”

          McKay takes a breath. “She’s in Ronon’s quarters.”

          Everyone turns to him.

          “Mine?” He can barely get the word out; he’s so shocked by the news. Why didn’t he think of his room?

          Because Jax has only been there one time; the day she saved Sheppard momentarily from McKay after they blew up that solar system. The first time she hugged him. Since then they’ve only spent time in her quarters.

          She must have gone there looking for him.

          McKay points to the glowing dot. “Well, someone’s in there. And since you’re here, I’m fairly certain it’s not you.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

** ~ VOID ~ **

          Ronon’s on the move. Sheppard’s boots pound the floor, coming up behind him. They’re outside his quarters in a few minutes, but Ronon can’t open the door. He waves his hand over the control crystals three times; the door won’t budge.

          Sheppard tries. Still nothing.

          “What the hell?” Sheppard radios McKay. “Open it.” McKay’s refuting response leaves the Colonel grumbling a curse. “Then get your ass down here _now_. Sheppard out.” He turns to Ronon with an apologetic gaze. “We have to try manual over-ride.” Sheppard knocks on the door. “Jax? It’s Colonel Sheppard. Open up.”

          “You’re wasting your time.”

          He huffs then pounds his fist harder. “Jax. Unlock the door. That’s an order.” Ronon raises a brow at the man; Sheppard shrugs, “Worth a shot.”

          The six minutes it takes McKay to join them is precious time Ronon’s worried Jax doesn’t have to spare. Sheppard gave up pounding on the door after a few more tries.

          Ronon clenches his teeth. _She’s in there._ She came to him for help and he wasn’t around to protect her. That cold surge returns to his stomach and a shiver of dread traverses his spine.

          McKay rearranges the crystals in the panel with his usual attitude. “Annoying pain in my ass.” When the door still won’t open, McKay pulls apart the panel and hooks his laptop up to the sensors. He spews out a slurring rampage of those curse words he’s so fond of saying.

          “McKay!” Sheppard’s intense tone hints at possible violence heading the scientist’s way.

          “This is impossible. Somehow, she managed to rewrite the sub-systems. It’s all scrambled… in code!”

          “Why?” Sheppard asks.

          McKay tosses Sheppard an annoyed glare. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe to _Keep People Out._ ”

          “Just open it, McKay. She needs help,” Ronon growls.

          “How do you know that?”

          “I can smell the blood.”

          Sheppard and McKay stare at him wide-eyed for a moment then McKay turns back to the control panel. “How the hell did she do this!” 

*** § ***

          The lock releases and the door swishes open bursting icy breath over all three men; black night swallows the room with only the corridor lights prying into its shadowy jaws.

          Ronon’s eyes take a moment to adjust as he goes into his quarters. Holding a hand up to keep Sheppard and McKay at bay, he ignores the chill of the air, focusing on the cold knot in his gut as he moves inside. A glare at McKay over his shoulder stops the scientist’s hand mid-air as he reaches for the light switch. McKay backs up several steps.

          On the right-hand side of the room, her back too them, she’s sitting in the desk chair facing the multi-hued window.

          The _broken_ window. A gaping hole is in the lower middle portion between the blue and orange plates. Blood drips from the tightly clenched fist hanging at her left side and the small but thick, dark puddle on the floor renews Ronon’s belief that Jax is _not_ always the smartest person in the room… even when she’s alone.

          “Call the doctor,” Ronon tosses back in a heavy whisper. Taking measured steps, he moves forward, doing is best not to startle her—usually an impossible task—and sits on the side edge of his bed; his knees close enough to touch her left one. “Jax?” 

          She doesn’t turn or acknowledge him; her gaze transfixed on the hole in the window… or something beyond. Sliding off the bed, Ronon squats in front of her, takes a deep breath at the sight and shakes his head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

          The damaged knuckles of her left hand continue to seep, but it’s her right hand twisting the cold knot in this gut even tighter. Jax hides behind government lies and her own walls of bravado to keep her safe from the killers in her past and possible hurt in the future. But she has always been her own worst enemy. Case in point: she’s holding herself hostage with a long shard of hued window glass; the sharp yellow tip pressing into her delicate throat.

          In the limited City lights peeking through the hole in the window, her wide eyes glisten; but they’re glassy… empty.

          She does not blink.

          Or move.

          A dot of blood mars her pretty neck but thankfully it’s not a deep cut. The line of red flowing toward her elbow comes from her hand gripping the glass tight… her palm probably looks like the cook’s Friday night ‘meat surprise’.

          “Jax.” Ronon tries again.

          No response.

          She doesn’t seem to notice he’s in the room, let alone in front of her.

          He caresses her ice-cold cheek. How long has she been sitting in this position with the cool night air saturating her skin? _Please… gimme something. A twitch. A tear? Just… See ME!_

          “Angela?”

          Nothing.

          “Angie.”

          Not even that works.

          Gut-punched—physically feeling it—he almost grabs his stomach it’s that intense. Never has he been so sad, afraid and angry at the same time… and because of the same person.

          Metal clanging against a wall pulls Ronon out of his own stupor, but not Jax. He takes a moment, absently wiping his hand over his beard. He sniffs and blinks hard, forcing away the sting of tears. Sheppard and Beckett come into the room trying to maneuver the front end of a gurney.

          “Wait.” Ronon cups Jax’s chin, gently lifting her head away from the shard. With his other hand, he peels the fingers of her right hand open one by one and takes the glass from her grip. His suspicion about the bloody mess of her palm confirmed. She doesn’t resist. He releases her: her head stays where he moved it, the hand doesn’t drop and her fingers stick out exactly as he leaves them, the stream of blood now flowing free. He drops the glass on the bed. Then with both hands, cups her face again. This time moving her so he can look into her eyes.

          And his heart breaks.

          The body is just a shell.

          Jax… Angie… is gone.

          Ronon releases her more roughly than he should—as though scorched—and steps back against the wall. “All yours, Doc.”

          Beckett rushes forward, pushing Sheppard back so the two male nurses can come inside with the rest of the gurney. They lift Jax out of the chair as if she’s nothing more than a small bag of grain and lay her onto the mobile bed, molding her into a flat position. She doesn’t fight, doesn’t move, and doesn’t notice.

          “Wait,” Sheppard steps up to the side of the gurney.

          “We have to go, Colonel,” Beckett warns.

          Sheppard peels open Jax’s left hand—as Ronon did the right—revealing a wadded-up piece of paper. He pulls it free but doesn’t step back. Instead, his gaze fixes on Jax, his fingers graze the spot of blood on her neck…

_And he remembers!_ The horrified look he slides toward Ronon confirms it.

          Sheppard backs away so the med team can maneuver the gurney out. He waits until they are rushing away from the quarters, then glares at Ronon, taking a step toward him. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

          “What?” McKay asks from behind Sheppard.

          Ronon shakes his head. “Because it is not about you, Sheppard. It is what _she_ wanted.”

          McKay’s eyes dart between the two men. “What’s going on?”

          Ronon doesn’t take his gaze from Sheppard. “And do not blame her. Jax _is_ the reason you are still alive. I was ready to kill you.”

          “What?” McKay squeaks. “When?”

          “Never mind,” Ronon and Sheppard say together.

          Sheppard’s stewing in his anger. Instead of lashing out again, he takes his frustration out on the paper in his hand; it tears as he unravels the wad. His expression darkens, even more, when he reads it.

          McKay moves in. “What is it?”

          Sheppard huffs out a heavy breath and runs a hand through his hair. “We regret to inform you of the death of Major Charles Montgomery…” he trails off, looking at Ronon again.

          “Her brother…” McKay sighs.

          “KIA. Details classified,” Sheppard finishes.

          Ronon’s back hits the wall. Cool air from the broken window brushes against his left arm. But the hairs raised on his body have nothing to do with the night breeze.

          This could be the one loss she can’t overcome.

 


	27. Chapter 27

** ~ CLASH ~ **

          Dr. Peter Bishop—Beckett’s second and in Beckett’s opinion “an annoyingly young genius who needs a shave”—Beckett, and all five nurses surround Jax, staving off the blood flowing from both hands, checking the rest of her body for further injury, especially her head. The doctors take turns looking in her eyes with those annoying pen-lights that always leave Ronon blinded for several moments. “Clear,” Bishop says. “Agreed,” Beckett says after he takes a look.

          Beckett checks her neck declaring it a minor laceration or ‘a scratch’ from Ronon’s understanding.

          “Thank God,” Dr. Weir sighs from the corner where she stands between Ronon and Sheppard. McKay’s sitting off to the side, slowly rolling his stool towards the door.

_Just leave, McKay!_ Ronon wants to shout, but he doesn’t want to do anything to distract the doctors.

          Sheppard slides his eyes toward Dr. Weir. “ _This_ is what you were afraid of.”

          “Yes.”

          McKay’s wheels squeak as he jumps up; two strides and he’s back with them. “You knew she’d try to kill herself?”

          “Try?” Dr. Weir huffs. “I’m shocked she didn’t succeed. She had plenty of time.” Dr. Weir curses under her breath, but Ronon clearly hears her spit Caldwell’s name. “Jax tends to finish what she starts.” She looks to Ronon. “Am I wrong?”

          “No.”

          Sometime later, Beckett comes over. “She’s stable. Breathing and heart rate low but within normal range. She lost quite a bit of blood. We cleaned up the lacerations… she needed over a hundred stitches in her right palm alone, but thankfully Peter studied under some of the best plastic surgeons in his Beverly Hills tenure before joining us in Atlantis this year.

          “Luckily Jax didn’t do any tendon damage. She has multiple cuts and punctures from embedded glass in her fist. I’m surprised she didn’t break her hand; that glass is nearly an inch thick.”

          “Can I see her?” Ronon asks.

          “In a bit. We need to run the scanner over her. Make sure we aren’t looking at a TIA or worse.”

          “Isn’t she too young for a stroke, Carson?” McKay asked.

          “TIA’s can be caused by a bump on the head and a slow brain bleed. Or could be she’s been carrying a genetic time-bomb in her brain no one ever caught. We won’t know until we look.” Beckett shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say I don’t believe either’s the case. Given the missive the Colonel found... I’m afraid we’re witnessing an emotional break.”

          “How do we fix her?” Ronon asks.

          “Unfortunately, we likely can’t. She’s in a dissociative state. Catatonia to be exact. She’s withdrawn into herself to the point where she doesn’t experience reality as we see it. It’s possible she has no conscious thought what-so-ever. She can’t move voluntarily and doesn’t react to external stimuli, including pain. Something like this is generally associated with schizophrenia, but it’s been documented in people with PTSD.” He looks pointedly at Dr. Weir. “Which I’m guessing from our last infirmary encounter with the lass is exactly what we have here.”

          Dr. Weir doesn’t answer him but she also drops her gaze to the floor. Given the slump in her shoulders and the dark skin under her eyes, Ronon’s sure Dr. Weir is struggling with the weight of the secrets surrounding Jax.

          “Too bad, we can’t go into her mind,” Bishop says as he joins them. Off their silent stares, he shrugs and adds: “I’ve seen it happen. My father—”

          McKay cocks his head at an angle as if trying to look down at the taller man with clear disdain. “Ah yes… I wondered if you were related to that… man.”

          Bishop takes a deep breath, readying for a verbal sparring with McKay—who doesn’t like the fact that the younger man is so smart and still refuses to join the Mensa group in The City. Beckett places a hand on the young man’s arm. “Peter, don’t let him get to you. Your father is a genius. His work led me to find the ATA gene and make the gene therapy.”

          “So,” Ignoring the extra conversation, Ronon pulls focus back onto Jax. “What you are saying is that there’s a battle going on inside her.”

          “Anything is possible at this juncture,” Beckett says.

          Ronon nods with conviction. “Part of her wants to die, is tired of fighting, of losing so much. But the other part, the survivor… wants to live.”

          “Which do you think will win?” Sheppard asks.

          Ronon crosses his arms, gives it a thought then: “Angela.”

          From the corner of his eye, he can see McKay raise a finger and look around the group. “And… who is that… exactly?”

 


	28. Chapter 28

** ~ VIGIL ~ **

          He watches her breathe.

          In and out.

          In and out.

          Steady. Rhythmic. Unchanging.

          Most people think she’s resting; asleep with her eyes open. Ronon knows better. Jax never sleeps restfully.

          She can still be molded into any form. If he lifts her hand, it stays where he puts it until he moves it again. He thought her body no more than a shell, waiting for her to return and bring it back to life.

_But she’s in there._

          Her heartbeat quickens slightly—expressed in the increased beep-beep of the monitor—whenever he comes near; as if calling out to him. And those empty eyes… constantly staring at the ceiling—or beyond—do not play by the molding rules. Bishop told him that they close her eyes constantly during the day and night to keep them from drying out, but every time someone comes back to check on her, they’re open again. Like her last “staycation” (Sheppard’s word) in the infirmary when she challenged the demons in her dreams; she’s doing what she does best… fighting for survival; and letting everyone who sees her know it.

          Especially Ronon. She knows he is watching, listening… and waiting.

          She acknowledges him through her heartbeat. Keeping her eyes open is her way of shouting out that she’s in this fight to win.

          So he returns to her every day; sitting for hours when not on a mission. He talks about the latest trip; mission blunders (usually McKay’s) that force the team to run for the gate; mainland and City adventures. And he keeps her up-to-date on the rumors flying through Atlantis hoping if she gets mad enough she’ll snap out of this stupor.

          He brings in her laptop and plays the _MacGyver_ episodes over and over, hoping for a spark of interest to cross her face.

          He puts the tabs in her ears and plays her music on the little white box. 

          He yells at her, shakes her and at curses at her for being weak until Beckett has him forcefully removed from the infirmary. Afterward, Sheppard somehow—though full of silence—manages to get him under control again.

          He sits with her in the middle of the night, staring into her empty eyes, trying to will her into action.

          He holds her hand.

          And watches her breathe.

 


	29. Chapter 29

** ~ SUPPORT ~ **

          Another day, another meeting, in Dr. Weir’s office about Jax and her lack of progress. Ronon would rather be in the infirmary with her, but even those visits are starting to wear down his belief in her recovery.

          He sits on the small blue sofa, elbows on thighs, hands clasped between his knees, doing his best to keep his temper in check.

          Dr. Kate Heightmeyer sits in the chair to his left, leaning back in a relaxed pose, but there’s tension coiled within her petite body. This is the first time she’s been involved in the case and she’s not happy about having been kept out of it. Sheppard told him Dr. Heightmeyer is a doctor of the brain, but not the actual brain, the ‘inner-feelings, mumbo-jumbo’. “She’s what we call a shrink.” Ronon asked for an explanation but Sheppard just shrugged in his usual manner. “Just what we call ‘em.” She hasn’t said anything since coming into the meeting, just sits watching all of them with keen blue eyes that don’t miss much.

          Beckett and Dr. Weir have been going over the same argument for nearly an hour. Dr. Weir insisted Ronon and Sheppard join the meeting, though Ronon can’t fathom her reasoning.

 _What_ is _happening to Jax? What kind of battle is she going through? Why won’t she let me help her?_

          The ‘incident’ has taken a toll on everyone. The City feels different; not only the expedition—there’s been a dip in morale—but Atlantis itself seems… off.

          Sad.

          Since arriving here, Ronon has felt The City as more than a place to live or beacon of hope for the galaxy. There’s _something_ … within the walls, floors, and ceiling… something Sheppard can tap into even if he doesn’t believe it.

          And it _feels_ for him.

          And possibly for Jax too, considering her Ancestor gene ability.

          Sheppard stands off to the side window, overlooking the Gateroom, most likely ignoring the entire discussion—or fight—between Beckett and Dr. Weir. The Colonel’s usual buoyant attitude sank deep since he saw the blood on Jax’s neck and remembered attacking her as Bugman. He hasn’t cracked a smile or a joke since that day. If he speaks to anyone, his voice edges on harsh, cold and filled with anger. Mostly he goes about day-to-day business scowling, brows creased; guilt and shame eating him alive.

          Ronon told him Jax feels no ill-will against him; that she survived without serious injury _because_ Sheppard stopped the emerging beast. Jax put it behind her… she doesn’t blame him. How can he blame himself?

          Yet, he does.

          At the same time, Dr. Weir—rarely giving away any emotion (not unlike Jax)—shows signs of worry and guilt cracking through her poised shell of self-control.

          The City reflects these emotions; as do the others living in Atlantis.

          Not Caldwell, though, as far as Ronon can sense, the man doesn’t feel the least bit responsible for his actions. Ronon really wants to hit him. Several times. On his shiny head.

          Beckett shakes his head again, keeping his gaze locked on Dr. Weir: “I _can’t_ help her here, Elizabeth.”

          “You’ll have to do your best, Carson. It’s out of my hands.”

          “Out of your… Elizabeth, I don’t have the equipment or the staff to monitor her around the clock. It’s been 15 days since she fell into catatonia and there’s no physical reason for it. I’ve tried every possible medication to pull her out, but nothing has stimulated the poor lass. If we don’t get her into a mental care facility…”

          “I understand,” Dr. Weir says softly, her unwavering gaze holding Beckett’s as she rises out of her chair, palms flat on the desk. “But she’s not permitted to return to Earth. End of discussion.”

          “How’s that possible? It’s her home—”

          “No,” Ronon says and everyone turns to him, including Sheppard. “ _This_ is her home.”

          “I know you have feelings for the lass, but she needs her family—”

          Ronon glowers at Beckett. “ _We_ are her family.” He leans into the stiff-backed sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s nothing for her there.” He drops his gaze and his voice, not really wanting to say anything more, but unable to keep it to himself. “She _will_ die there. Alone.”

          Ronon lifts his eyes, catching Dr. Weir staring at him with uncompromised compassion. She nods before turning back to Beckett. “He’s right, Carson. Jax _is_ home on Atlantis and she’s not going anywhere else.” She glides around her desk, stands in front of him, gripping his shoulder in comfort; he accepts her, their close friendship evident. Sighing hard, Dr. Weir adds: “I’m sorry I can’t give you the explanation you want. I’m under orders myself.”

          “Bloody insanity, that’s what it is. And I don’t mean Jax.”

          Dr. Weir steps away from Beckett; hands fisted on hips and starts pacing the length of her office. She pushes a hand through her dark hair. “Are you absolutely sure the Ancients never came across something like this? There has to be some mention of a cure.”

          “Aye, there’s a cure. Jax. She has to want to come out of it. But I don’t see that happening. A catatonic state can last hours or years. There’s no telling what’ll trigger a reversal. It depends on the patient and her medical history. Which, by the by, is woefully inadequate for this particular patient considering I know nothing—”

          Dr. Weir holds up a silencing hand. “I know.” She looks to Ronon. “Can you help him with… something… that’s not classified?”

          Ronon takes a moment. He looks Beckett in the eyes: “She’s always been physically healthy except for a surgery on her heart years ago. She almost died… or did die on the table, she said.” Sheppard’s sharp breath intake startles everyone. He doesn’t say anything, but clearly, the information upsets him. Ronon’s hard-put to reveal information Jax told him in private but he adds: “And a different one she said was by choice.”

          “Aye… there’s scar tissue, I saw it on the scan.” Beckett nods, sending Ronon a knowing look about the second surgery… keeping information confidential is very important to the doctor.

          “What about emotionally?” Dr. Heightmeyer finally enters the conversation.

          Ronon blows out a breath. Now, for the harder information. He looks to the ‘brain doctor’. “Her parents were killed in front of her.”

          Dr. Heightmeyer takes in a gulp of air then sighs it out; her gaze on Ronon. She wants more information but holds her questions in her eyes. 

          “And now her brother is dead.” Beckett motions with his hands. “This is the information I’ve needed! And I’m sure there’s more.”

          “Much. That I can’t say,” Ronon adds still staring at the shrink.

          “No wonder the lass has lost hold,” Beckett announces. “She’s not fighting anything… she’s _hiding_!”

          “Hiding?” Sheppard turns away from the giant window and faces the group.

          “Aye. Just as she did from her nightmares by avoiding sleep.”

          “I’m not so sure about that,” Dr. Weir says.

          “She needs something strong—” Beckett continues over Dr. Weir’s remark “—Something so important to her in this reality that she has to return. And I don’t have a clue what that could be.”

          “With all the shit that’s happened to her, why _didn’t_ she kill herself,” Sheppard asks. “She had plenty of time while we chased our tails.”

          Dr. Weir leans a hip against her desk and folds her arms across her middle. She looks to Dr. Heightmeyer and shrugs. “I know you haven’t talked to her, but can you shed any light on this?”

          Dr. Heightmeyer takes a deep breath. She looks to Ronon. “She’s a survivor, yes?”

          “She’s a Runner.”

          Dr. Heightmeyer raises a brow at him, taking in his description. “I see.” After a moment: “This is only based on what I’ve heard in the last day,” she says tartly. It must sting her professionally to have been kept in the dark about Jax. “To answer the Colonel’s question. Part of her wants to die, wants to give up. But at the same moment, the side of her that has been pushing back against everything bad in her life came out swinging. Maybe she is hiding but if Ronon’s right, she’s fighting for survival as well. Like split personalities battling for supremacy. Inside her head.”

          “We need her to have that conflict out here, in the real world,” Beckett says. “It’s getting her to acknowledge us that is the problem.”

          “Frankly,” Dr. Heightmeyer adds. “She may not even realize she’s _not_ with us.”

          Dr. Weir turns to Ronon. “Have you tried speaking to her?”

          “Every day.” He lifts his chin, motioning toward his commander. “Even Sheppard and Teyla have tried.”

          “No response?” Dr. Heightmeyer asks.

          “She doesn’t even blink,” Sheppard growls.

          “Aye, she won’t keep her eyes closed. That has to be a conscious decision. We’re using saline drops to keep her eyes hydrated,” Carson adds. “Plus, she’s on the IV drip and feeding tube, but the lass has already lost weight and it’s not like she was exactly in need of that to begin with. She’s going to start losing muscle soon.”

          “Well, we can’t let that happen!” Dr. Weir’s tone pulls them all up in shock. Of all the people Ronon has met from Earth, Dr. Weir’s the most serene, even at the worst of times, she remains calm. She holds up her hand, palm out: “I’m sorry.”

_She’s scared._

          Without knowing it, Jax manages to get under everyone’s skin. She has no idea how well-liked and cared for she is by many here. Maybe if she did, she wouldn’t be hiding inside herself making them all worry. The last thing she would want to do is cause pain to others.

          “Carson, I know you’re—” Alarms blare throughout The City, cutting Dr. Weir off. She glances at Sheppard who’s already racing into the Control Room. Ronon’s behind him with Dr. Weir on his heels.

          “What’s wrong?” she shouts over the noise.

          McKay’s at the panel. “We’ve got a ship incoming. The long-range sensors just picked it up and… it’s already on top of us.” He checks a computer screen. “Damn, it’s fast!”

          “Wraith?” Caldwell demands as he struts around a corner and into the Control Room.

          McKay’s shaking his head. “Too big for a… it just… wait… what!” He looks up at them with fear in his eyes. “It just cloaked!”

          “Wraith ships can’t do that!” Sheppard says.

          “Can we cloak the city?” Dr. Weir asks.

          “Too late.” McKay shakes his head. “They know we’re here. I’ll get the shield on-line—” He pushes buttons but stops abruptly when a white beam of light appears downstairs in the middle of the Gateroom.

          The Gate soldiers lift their weapons, ready to fend off an attack and Sheppard’s down the steep stairs in seconds, weapon raised to confront the incoming intruder. As always, Ronon’s at his side.

          A tall, gray-haired man in green SGC utilities emerges into the middle of the light making Sheppard skid to a stop at the base of the stairs, his mouth agape. The light vanishes, leaving the stranger taking in his new surroundings. “Man! That never gets old.” He grins and the soldiers lower their weapons, rise up and salute him. Except for Sheppard, who’s too stunned to move. “At ease,” the newcomer calls out and everyone relaxes. He takes in The City around him, grinning wider and nodding: “Nice!”

          “General!” Dr. Weir’s leaning over the balcony, a big smile releasing most of the earlier tension from her face. She trots down the stairs her smile growing.

          Caldwell and McKay follow—the Daedalus Commander doesn’t look happy, not that he ever does.

          “That was an Asgard ship!” McKay’s clearly awed as he joins them. “They weren’t planning on staying…?”

          “Nope, already gone,” the man says and McKay’s smile fades. “Dr. Weir,” the ‘general’ says to her, though he steps over to Sheppard and shoves two boxes at him. “Hold these will you, Sheppard.” He looks the Colonel over. “And close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” He waves a hand in the air. “Or whatever bugs you have out here.”

          Sheppard grimaces at the word ‘bugs’ but takes the packages and closes his gaping mouth, smirking a little. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

          “Yeah. You too.” His eyes narrow. “Same haircut, I see.” Sheppard scrunches up his face as he runs his free hand over his hair. The General slides his gaze toward Caldwell. “Colonel,” his tone not a bit friendly.

          “General,” Caldwell nods from his position on the stairs. He likes remaining taller than everyone else as they gather at the base of the steps.

          Dr. Weir grabs the General’s hand, shaking it, smiling with relief. “I didn’t expect this when I sent the message.”

          The man nods side-to-side and makes a face similar to Sheppard’s. “Yeah, well. Had some time off… and a few markers to call in,” he motions overhead.

          “I always thought Dr. Jackson would be the first to join us from the SGC,” McKay adds.

          The General nods. “Yeah—” he lifts a finger, “—about that. Daniel doesn’t know about this here little visit… and I’d like to keep it that way. He can be a bit… pissy on the subject.”

          Dr. Weir nods, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Ah, I see.”

          “I only have a small window to get back through the gate before he returns from an off-world mission, but I had to try...”

          “I understand,” Dr. Weir says.

          “How long?” Sheppard asks.

          “Two days.” He turns to Dr. Weir again and lowers his voice. “How is she?”

          Her smile falls and she shakes her head. “Doesn’t look good. She’s cat—”

          “Catatonic, yeah… you mentioned.”

          Dr. Weir grasps his arm. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for her.”

          “I found out just an hour before notifying you. Don’t blame yourself, doctor. Obviously, you do your best…” his gaze drifts over Caldwell again, narrowing with dangerous intent. “Given what you have to work with.” Sheppard’s had this look before… for someone named Kavanaugh. He calls it his ‘eat-shit-and-die’ glare. Caldwell’s face shifts in hue and he looks away from the General, who has some power over the Colonel which makes Ronon like their important visitor. “I got a crash course on the diagnosis,” he tells Dr. Weir, pointing at the boxes in Sheppard’s arms. “Brought some provisions.” He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll do the trick.”

          Dr. Weir glances at the boxes and smiles; somehow knowing what’s inside without looking. “I’ve actually had supplies on order for several months. Enough for everyone. Dr. Zelenka helped with getting sizes. But…”

          The General holds up a hand; “I’ll see if I can cut through some of that red-tape for you when I get back.”

          “That’d be nice, sir. I wanted it to be a surprise for her.”

          “She’ll love it.”

          Sheppard moves in closer, in front of Dr. Weir and the General. “Sir… how do you know Jax?” he whispers.

          “She’s a… special friend. Can’t cook worth beans. Burn a salad if it was possible. But I suggest no one play poker with her, especially for money.”

          “Why’s that?” McKay asks.

          The man shrugs again and at the same time he speaks, Ronon joins in: “She read a book on it once.” Hearing the deep echo, the General widens his eyes, turning his attention fully on Ronon, looks him over then offers his hand. “You must be Tarzan.”

          Ronon grips the man’s hand firmly and shakes it as he saw Dr. Weir do. “Specialist Ronon Dex.”

          “Ah, Ronon Dex, of course. Nice… hair.” He glances at Sheppard who shakes his head slightly.

          “Ronon,” Sheppard starts. “This is General Jack O’Neill, head of Home World Security.”

          “General O’Neill… G.O.N.,” Ronon says, looking the man up and down. When he catches his eyes, Ronon tilts his head: “The gift giver.”

          “That’d be me,” he says, massaging his hand once it’s free.

          “You’re older than I expected.”

          “Hmm. Yeah, well. That happens over the years.” Still massaging his hand. “You should call her Cheetah if she mentions the Tarzan thing again,” he grumbles.

          Ronon grins, motions to Sheppard with his eyes. “That’s what he said.”

          O’Neill looks to Sheppard. “Really?” Sheppard shrugs and makes the face again. “How’d she react?”

          “She wanted to hurt someone,” Ronon smirks, again looking at Sheppard; his eyes open wide at hearing the news.

          “I’m not surprised.” O’Neill nods, smirking.

          “If you will excuse me,” Caldwell says.

          “Please, go about your business, Colonel. We _will_ speak later.” With a curt nod and a bit of green in his face, Caldwell leaves, probably to return to his ship and sulk as Sheppard would say. The General leans into Dr. Weir, whispering—but Ronon’s got great hearing. “Col. Stick-up-his-butt giving you any more problems?”

          Dr. Weir chuckles. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

          “I’m sure.”

          “Helps that he knows I have a… special friend as well.”

          “Hey, you got Kinsey canned… I’m in debt forever.” O’Neill’s smile slowly drops as he takes a deep breath and releases it. “So, where’s my girl?”

          “She’s in a private room off the infirmary,” Beckett states, having joined them at the bottom of the stairs some time ago. “She’s still unresponsive, however.”

          “Well, we’ll see about that.” He looks at Ronon. “So, may I call you Ronon?”

          “It is my name.”

          “Right. Lead the way.” Ronon turns toward the corridor that goes to the infirmary and the General’s right at his side. “I’d like to know your intentions towards the young lady,” O’Neill says.

          Still carrying the boxes, Sheppard follows with Dr. Weir next to him and Beckett behind. Ronon raises his brows, glancing back at Sheppard who’s peeking inside the top box then he meets Ronon’s gaze and his eyes quickly fill with fear. He shakes his head, wide eyes pleading: _Don’t tell him anything_ , he mouths. Ronon narrows his gaze and grunts then looks at their visitor. “I was wondering the same thing about you, Jack.”

          O’Neill does a double-take upon hearing his first name but doesn’t object. “Consider her my… adopted daughter.”

          “Daughter?” Ronon nods and a smile emerges. “Good to know.” Ronon pauses a moment before adding: “Sir.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

** ~ MURMUR ~ **

          Beckett slides his palm over the control crystals and the private infirmary room door _whooshes_ open. The suite initially started as Beckett’s quarters, but given the ease of traveling by transporters to get across The City in moments, the doctor moved to a larger apartment. After that, Dr. Weir had McKay and a couple of the engineers create an open entryway with a curtain for privacy and several large windows in the shared infirmary wall. It’s the same space Sheppard stayed in while recuperating from being Bugman.

          Computers, monitors and a hospital bed, now occupied by Jax, replaced the usual Ancestor furniture. Jax lies at an angle, almost sitting, that Ronon would find very difficult to relax or sleep in—these last few weeks he’s barely found sleep in any position.

          With her hands atop the light-weight blanket covering her from waist to below her delicate feet, she seems awake and awaiting visitors. But her open eyes refuse to focus on Rachel checking her blood pressure, or the group crowded at the door led by General O’Neill. Her beautiful face, unusually pale—probably because of the dark red infirmary shirt she’s swimming in—remains slack and emotion-free.

_Seriously zombie-like._

          Ronon remembers zombies from one of the entertainment videos Jax shared with him. They moved to music almost as well as she does. He tilts his head and studies her again. Nodding, he agrees with the original impression. If her eyes were yellow or filled with blood… definite zombie potential.

          Different hued wires and tubes trail from her body, coming out of each sleeve or from under the covers. Beckett explained the reason for each one, but Ronon only cares that they’re needed to help her; he has no interest in her ‘nutrition intake’ or ‘waste management’.

          A mesh cap covers her dark hair keeping the electrodes attached to her scalp from moving in case of muscle twitches or jerks. When it happened before, Ronon mistakenly believed she was coming out of the trance; Becket had a medical explanation to dash Ronon’s fleeting hope. Next to the bed, two machines _beep_ or _buzz_ in steady but separate rhythms: heart and brain monitors.

          He hears them even when he’s not in the room. It’s the non-stop droning that keeps him awake when it would probably lull anyone else into sleep. Sheppard would definitely order him to talk with Beckett if he even hinted about his long wakeful hours. Or worse… Dr. Heightmeyer!

          Ronon breaks away from the group still crowded at the door—no one eager to make the first move—crosses to the right side of the bed in two strides, taps the back of Jax’s hand, kisses her forehead and then whispers in her ear: “You have visitors… best behavior.”

_BeepBeepBeep._

          Ronon’s used to the subtle change in the heart rhythm. He likes that she’s fighting back and happy to see him. He hopes those are happy beeps. It returns to soon to the _beep—beep—beep_ he loathes.

          Rachel finishes and with a _zzzip_ of Velcro, removes the blood pressure cuff. Ronon finds Velcro quite efficient and useful in many different situations; much like Sheppard’s favorite tool: duct tape. According to both Jax and McKay, these items and more are stolen technology from intelligent alien visitors/prisoners back on Earth.

_Probably using Velcro to keep the pillow from slipping down the bed._

          The stray thought floats in and out. Ronon doesn’t remember when they started but he’s sure he didn’t have these flashes of ‘randomness’—as Jax calls it—before he came to Atlantis. His mind too focused on staying alive: survival techniques and fighting against the Wraith. Now, he has a home, a place and people to call his. He can stop being on alert at all times. Maybe even relax a bit, as she keeps telling him to do all the time.

_Never gonna happen._

          Ronon shakes his head. Maybe he’s missing her so much he’s started thinking like her. Because if he’s honest… these stray thoughts sure sound like Jax talking in his head. Maybe he should talk to Sheppard, find out if this is normal when worried about someone. 

          Rachel hands Dr. Beckett a datapad as he comes closer to the bed. “No changes. But” —she motions to Ronon with a nod and soft smile— “she knows he’s here.”

          “She always does,” Beckett says. “Thank you, lass. You can take a break now.”

          On the way out, Rachel acknowledges everyone with the same polite smile only to stop mid-stride, her eyes pop wide and her grin explodes. “General O’Neill!” Rachel sucks in a quick but deep breath, holding it as she glances at the alert crowd. With a slow release of air and in a controlled voice, she adds: “What are you doing here?”

_Someone’s got a crush._

          “Stop it!” Ronon turns to Jax.

          And all eyes dart to Ronon.

          Sheppard pokes his head out of the group. “Something up, buddy?”

          As the nurse did previously, Ronon holds his breath, scans the room full of questioning expressions then shakes his head. “No… talking to Jax is all.”

          Beckett raises his brows. “And what is it you want her to stop doing?”

          They’re all staring at him as though he’s lost his mind.

_Oops!_

          Ronon stares hard at Jax, waiting for her to roll her head his way and wink but she does neither.  “She knows.” Is all he offers the group.

          Dr. Weir bites her bottom lip then nods as though she understands what he’s saying. _Or_ , she’s stifling a laugh. “Ok, then.”

          Rachel moves through everyone, passing close to the general: “umm, nice to see you again, Sir. Hope you enjoy the visit.” That beguiling smile flashes again, just for O’Neill who looks completely unaffected.

_Because of Sam._

          O’Neill leans out into the corridor. “I’m not really here,” he calls. Turning back inside, he says: “I don’t think she heard me.”

          “It’s okay, General,” Dr. Weir grins. “I’ll handle it.”

          Ronon glares at Jax. Now he’s sure she’s in his head somehow… has been this whole time. But how… and why? And why didn’t she ask him first? He would have welcomed talking or thinking to her.

          He shakes his head. Leaning in close so only Jax can hear him, he growls: “You are, as Sheppard says, a serious pain in my ass!”

_BeepBeepBeepBeep._

          Right now, Ronon would swear she’s laughing at him.

          O’Neill taps his shoulder. “Private confab over?”

          Ronon would have decked anyone else who got so close to him without making a sound. But Jax has gotten into his head and is screwing with his ‘game’. So, now he’s thinking like her but starting to talk—even silently to himself—like Sheppard. Should fit in on Earth any day now.

_Damn straight!_

          “For now,” Ronon tells O’Neill, though he doesn’t take his eyes off Jax. He backs away, giving O’Neill access.

          The General kisses her forehead as Ronon did. He lifts her no longer bandaged hands. The stitches came out after ten days; the wounds continue healing but the puckered, darkened skin and bruises look wicked ugly. “What happened?” Jack examines the damage.

          “Punched through the stained-glass window in my quarters with the left one,” Ronon explains. “Sliced open the right palm with a glass shard.”

          “Your room?”

          “I wasn’t there.”

          O’Neill grips her chin, making her face him. “For crying out loud, Angela! _That_ was stupid.”

_BZZZZZ!_ The brain monitor squeals.

          “What was that?” O’Neill asks Beckett.

          The doctor checks the panel then huffs and flashes his dimples at the General. “I think you made her mad… Sir.”

          O’Neill slides his lower jaw to the side, grunts, and smirks at the news. “Good. She made me mad too.”

          “Carson, why don’t we give them some time together,” Dr. Weir urges.

          Beckett agrees and returns to the others still huddling at the door; they leave as they came in, one big group.

          O’Neill tucks a stray curl behind Jax’s ear. “Sheppard,” he calls. The Colonel appears in the doorway alone. O’Neill points to the boxes he handed over on arrival. “Put those on the end of the bed.”

          Sheppard slinks into the room, keeping his head down as though trying to hide his thoughts from the General.  He sets the boxes down, nods and says: “Good luck, sir.”

_buBbeepbuBeepbuBeep_.

          O’Neill’s eyes slide from Jax and to Sheppard for a long moment. “Thank you,” he says, his gaze scrutinizing the younger man.

          Ronon bites his bottom lip forcing down a knowing grin as Sheppard’s face changes hue ever-so-slightly under the General’s attention.

          “You’re welcome.”

_buBbeepbuBeepbuBeep_.

          Sheppard’s eyes dart from the monitor to Jax then back again. He licks his lips, barely looks at the General as he gives a sharp nod and rushes out of the room.

_Even sheepish he’s gorgeous!_

          Ronon shakes his head trying to clear it. He should never have those kinds of thoughts about his commander running through his mind.

_Someone needs a hug._

          Afraid he’ll start laughing; Ronon follows in his commander’s retreating steps.

          “You don’t have to go,” O’Neill tells him.

          “I’ll be around,” Ronon tosses over his shoulder.


	31. Chapter 31

** ~ SYMBOL ~ **

          When Ronon returns a couple hours later, O’Neill’s sitting on the edge of the bed, facing Jax. One box sits open on the nearby tray table and he’s showing her something, but, as expected, she’s not reacting.

          Ronon hands the General a cup of black coffee. “Dr. Weir said you’d like this.” O’Neill takes it gratefully, sliding from the bed and sitting in the chair next to it.

          “What are those?” Ronon points to a pile of what looks like pictures, like the ones McKay showed him of his cat back on Earth.

          “Photos of Lily and the baby.”

          “The baby came early!”

          “No.” O’Neill scoops up the photos and hands them over. “Those are taken with sound… I think. Carter’s always better at explaining stuff.”

          Carter must be Lt. Col. Samantha Carter who Jax said is O’Neill’s love and Carter loves him in return, but neither is willing to make a move because of the dumbass regulations. When she talks about the two of them, she gets very upset about the subject tending to use harsher language. Probably because it reminds her of her feelings for Ryan and how she didn’t take action when she had the chance.

          Ronon sifts through the photos, taking his time with each one. These are much more interesting than a fat, sleeping cat. Though Ronon has been told that on Earth cats make wonderful pets because they hunt rodents. Jax even told him about a place called Japan that set aside an entire island for the creatures.

          She says she’s a dog person though. She clearly misses her dog, Mister Mxyzptlk because he can never get more than two or three words out of her about him. And though McKay is an ass most of the time, he also has a fond spot for his missing feline friend: Cat.

          Everything he learns about Earth makes him want to see it more each day. Earth is far richer than any world known… yet so young compared to those in Pegasus. Sheppard told him the Stargate Program and traveling to other worlds started seven Earth years ago—according to McKay tracking time by solar rotation is quite the acceptable form of determining ones age on most worlds. Given the disparate cycles, Ronon would be thirty-two on Earth not twenty-eight as on Sateda—and Sheppard only learned of Gate travel two Earth years ago, merely a single lunar cycle, or month, before coming to Atlantis.

          Even with all the technology and Gate travel available to his world, Sateda did not have the ability to steal a moment in time like this. The Wraith wipe out any civilization that grows too strong in technology. On Sateda _every_ scientist worked on turning stolen Wraith tech into usable weapons for defense. So, when they got too advanced the Wraith decimated the planet.

          The image of Lily breaks Ronon’s heart for Jax. Once again, she had to leave someone special behind. Lily’s beautiful, kind face and large blue eyes hold so much love for whoever she’s looking at… probably Charlie. But she’s waving, which means she must have known Jax would see the image as well. As he slips the first few aside, he’s shocked to his core. “This is…?”

          O’Neill grins: “That’s little Angela. Still inside mommy.”

          Ronon’s breath catches and a lump tightens his throat. It’s clearly a baby sucking her thumb. Eyes closed tight, she still manages to convey the same defiant edge as Jax. “I believe she’ll be a terror.”

          “More than likely.” O’Neill grins. “Already kicking up a storm.”

          “Another dancer.”

          “Maybe,” O’Neill agrees with a wistful smile.

          Ronon shuffles through the remaining photos until he comes across a young man with red hair that shares the same dark eyes as Jax but not the icy shield. “Charlie.” He stares at the man with the easy smile and open heart.

          “Yeah,” O’Neill sighs.

          Ronon sets the images aside. “I do not understand how they never met as children and yet…”

          “Been so close?” O’Neill shrugs. “Just happens with some people. I credit him with being open enough to accept her. He was five years older than her; never got a chance to know his father—that was his mother’s choice, from what I understand. But when he and Angie met, he didn’t have an ounce of resentment for her.”

          “She did save his life.”

          “That she did,” he nods. “But I think there’s more to it. Seeing them together was a beautiful thing. It’s as if they always knew they were missing a part of themselves.” He sips his coffee. “Charlie once admitted he watched her skate before he knew who she really was. And that’s quite an admission coming from a military man.” Ronon remembers Sheppard’s threat of harm should his secret be revealed. “After the first competition, when on leave, he sought out any prelim or national to see her again. He was drawn to her—”

          “Grace.”

          O’Neill’s eyes widen. “Ah… you too, I see.”

          Ronon nods, crossing his arms as he watches the older man. “What happened to him?”

          “It’s classified.”

          “I’m not in Earth military.”

          “No,” O’Neill gets up from the chair, stretches, makes a pained face, and stretches again. “But I am.” He groans either from the pain of frustration. “I can’t even tell her.”

          “Was it… because of what happened to her?”

          “Because…? Oh, hell no. Charlie was doing his job. He saved a lot of lives that day. He’s a hero.” O’Neill stares at Ronon as he sips the coffee. “She still goes on about the ‘curse’ then, I take it?”

          “She believes it.” Ronon looks at Jax. “But… there are times… she seems to forget.”

          O’Neill pats Ronon’s shoulder. “I’ve noticed a difference in her emails. She’s happy here. I have a feeling that has something to do with you.”

          “We’re… close. But I feel it’s more The City… it welcomed her from the beginning.”

          “Ahhh… you’re one of _those_.”

          Ronon cocks his head and narrows his gaze on the General. “One of what?”

          He raises a finger, pointing to the ceiling then circles it in the air. “That think Atlantis is _alive_.” He’s amused by the notion.

          “Not truly… Jax believes there’s something called an AI hiding within the systems; it lurks, she says.” Ronon shakes his head; it was hard enough trying to understand that the first time she talked about it. “I don’t believe even the Ancestors could have created a machine smart enough for human thought.”

          “Unless they attached a human brain to it,” O’Neill says; his eyes far away. He shakes off whatever thought caught him. “Too many weird missions. You were saying?”

          “I believe there’s a connection to those with the gene.”

          “My brain tingles back here,” he touches the back of his head. “I like it. It’s like a tickle but not as annoying.”

          “That would be The City recognizing the Ancestor’s gene in you. Jax told me she likes it too. Though she still believes there’s a different presence here. Maybe the spirits of the Ancestors. I don’t really know. I only care that she’s happy. Atlantis is her home now.”

          “I get that.” O’Neill returns to the chair, slouching down enough to lift his boot heels to the edge of Jax’s bed; he crosses his ankles. “You two spend a lot of time together?”

          “We watch her Earth shows and she teaches me about US American culture.”

          “Just US?”

          “She rarely teaches me anything she doesn’t know fully about. Even if she’s read many books on another part of the Earth, she’s never visited so doesn’t know if those books tell the truth.”

          O’Neill makes an amused face. “That’s my girl.” He pats her hand. “So… you’re only friends. Nothing more?” He raises a brow.

          “We don’t see each other that way.”

          “Yeah, given her _beeps_ ,”—he motions to the heart monitor—“it’s pretty obvious”—he sighs hard— “she’s got the hots for Sheppard”—and shakes his head. “Damn flyboy.” After a moment, he raises his chin and stares hard at Ronon. “He ever gets outta line with her… it’s up to you to make it right. Since I won’t be here to… maim him… should the need arise.”

          “He cares for her too.”

          “Sure, he does. What’s not to like?” O’Neill stands abruptly, grabs Jax by the shoulders and gives her a hardy shake. “Except this crap here, Angela! What the hell are you doing? I didn’t come all this way to see you lying around like a lazy lump! It’s a bit annoying, you know.” He snaps his fingers in front of her face.

          No reaction.

          But there’s a _Bzzz_ on the brain monitor, similar to before.

          O’Neill heaves a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed facing her again. “At least I know you’re still in there, honey.” He caresses two fingers down her cheek. “You keep fighting, sweetie. You’re stronger than this.”

          “Why do you call her Angela and not Jax?”

          “Jax isn’t real. You haven’t figured that out yet?” He slides his eyes toward Ronon. “It’s just another name… a wall built for protection.”

          “But it links her to Ryan and to you.”

          O’Neill raises his brows. “She told you everything, then?” He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. I’m glad she got it out. She trusts you, Ronon. Not something she gives easily, you may have noticed.” His gaze turns steely, “Don’t abuse it.”

          Ronon just stares back at O’Neill with the same intent.

          “Anyway… about the names… I don’t know Jax. She made that up when she got here. Maggie wasn’t real either, something shoved on her.” O’Neill turns back to her: “Angie,”—he lifts her battered but healing hands to his lips— “is my girl.”

          Ronon understands. Jax is the person she pretends to be out in The City among the others. Like Joey’s acting jobs on _Friends_. Jax acts as the exercise instructor, the kitchen manager, the dishwasher… or hair washer… are all parts she performs. And the expedition is her audience. Ronon’s her Chandler, he knows the real person. Though he still thinks of her as Jax, he has started to call her Angie in private. It makes her smile and it does suit her. “What’s in the other box?”

          O’Neill looks at it but makes no attempt to open it. “Last resort.” He catches Ronon’s gaze and there’s fear in the older man’s eyes. “If it doesn’t work…” he trails off as he stares down at the box.

          “She will never be alone”—Ronon rests a hand on his shoulder— “Jack.”

          The General watches him for a long moment then nods. “Good man.”

          Ronon takes a deep breath— “We should try”—and lets it out.

          O’Neill sets her hands in her lap and slides off the bed, reaching for the box. “Yeah.” He opens the lid and pulls out a sleek white boot made of a thick animal hide like Ronon’s trousers. Not shiny and new; these boots have been well worn but treasured. Unlike regular boots, however, they aren’t made for walking. Ronon had yet to see one, but he’s sure this is the ‘ice-skate’ Jax told him about. Metal attached to the bottom and a strip of bright blue material sheaths what is sure to be a very sharp blade. He doesn’t have these kinds of sheaths for his swords but he knows a protective cover when he sees one.

          “It’s an ice skate,” O’Neill explains. He pulls off the cover exposing a well-honed blade; holding out the blue strip for Ronon to see it better. “Blade guard.” Then passes the skate to Ronon.

          “It’s heavier than I expected,” Ronon says and Jack does a double-take. Ronon grins. “She told me about them. I thought she was exaggerating about the heft. She’s so small…”

          “But strong as an ox,” O’Neill adds with a grin and nod. “That’s a really big animal on Earth.”

_Damn straight._

          Ronon grins at the thought and hands the skate back to O’Neill. The General slides the guard into place before sitting on the edge of the bed again.

          Ronon joins him on the opposite side of the bed and they both stare at Jax, hoping to see Angie emerge. O’Neill lays the skate against her then picks up one hand and folds it around the boot. “Present time, sweetie.” Her fingers touch the soft, familiar material, unfortunately not by her; O’Neill moves them for her. He places her left hand on the heel of the boot.

          No reaction.

          “Dammit!” He cups her face in his big hands, turning her towards him. “Angela.” Her blank eyes stare back.

          “Let me,” Ronon says. Jack pulls back as Ronon leans in from the other side. He rubs the fingers of her right hand over the entire skate, the strings, even the cool side of the metal. “Angie. Ryan and Charlie want to see you dance again.”

          He waits.

          She breathes.

          There’s no sudden light coming into her eyes as he hoped. No spark of awareness. Not even a _beep_ from the machines. Ronon sighs, releasing her, but her hand stays on the skate.

          “ _I_ want to see you dance!” O’Neill says. Still nothing. The General’s head droops in defeat. “Damn.” He rubs his hands over his face, suddenly looking weary and older than when he arrived just hours ago.

          “It was worth the try,” Ronon says.

          “There’s still time. But… I could use a break.”

          “They’re serving meatloaf and potatoes tonight.”

          “Sounds good.”

          Together they head for the door.

_I think it’s well-passed time you wake up._

          That voice wasn’t his or Jax’s. Ronon shakes off the ridiculous thought. Now he’s hearing _others_ in his head? Maybe he _is_ going mad… a word he learned watching many of Jax’s shows. He’s very fond of those _Friends_ people. And the sisters of that fantastical show… something about ‘witchcraft’. One of the women reminds him of Jax.

          With a hearty sigh, Ronon pats O’Neill on the back. “We won’t—I mean—I won’t give up—”

          “Daddy?” The whisper stops Ronon mid-step. That wasn’t in his head!

          Jack stops beside him so he must have heard it too. Their gazes clash, their brows shoot up. They turn around together. Jax is facing forward as if watching them go, but neither O’Neill or Ronon moved her to that position.

          Hopeful—but fearful—Ronon’s breath catches. He wants to rush to her but has made the mistake in the past, thinking she was waking up— _Are those tears?_

          O’Neill’s has no such restraint and is already back on the bed, cupping her face in both his hands. “Honey? It’s Jack.”

_BeepBuzzBeepBuzzBeepBuzz!_

          Ronon’s locked in place near the door, his heart pounding against his ribs in time with the monitors.  _Could it be? Did we finally break through to her?_

          “C’mon, sweetie,” O’Neill urges, resting his forehead against hers. “Come back to us.” Those glistening tears slip from her eyes, dripping onto O’Neill’s hands. Ronon doesn’t remember moving but he’s standing on the other side of the bed. O’Neill pulls back, giving her breathing space but doesn’t release her from his grip. “I know you’re in there. Angel. I can feel it!”

          She blinks, once, twice. More tears slip down, O’Neill gently brushes a thumb through them. Another blink and Ronon’s heart leaps into his throat. After closing them for a moment way too long, Jax’s eyes finally open and focus on O’Neill. Her brows furrow, “Jack? What”—her voice cracks from lack of use. She swallows hard— “are you”—O’Neill grabs her shoulders and pulls her into a tight hug— “doing here?”

          “Yes!” Ronon belts toward the heavens. _Bless the Ancestors! She’s back._ He heaves a sigh and feels his face stretch into the biggest grin he’s ever had.

          Rachel rushes in from the infirmary but Ronon grabs her arm to hold her back. She gives him a warning glance. Ronon’s not swayed. He shakes his head and she reluctantly stays back. _Water._  Ronon mouths to Rachel and she nods then goes back into the infirmary; where she will likely call Beckett to rush over. Ronon doesn’t want anyone else in here besides him and O’Neill… at least for now.

          O’Neill’s chuckling as he leans back after releasing Jax. He makes a face and shrugs, “I was in the neighborhood.” He kisses her forehead. “It’s _so_ good to see ya, kiddo.” Then he’s hugging her again, laughing heartily.

          “Okay,” Jax squeaks. “Needing… air.”

          “Sorry,” O’Neill lets her go again.

          Rachel comes back with a cup of ice chips and a plastic spoon. She silently, with a big grin, hands it to O’Neill who gives her a grateful smile in return. Jax’s ravenous eyes stare hard at the cup. O’Neill plays with her, making the tiny spoonful of ice a game… as someone would with a small child. It only lasts a few moments because Jax grabs his wrist and shoves the spoon into her mouth, nearly taking off one of his fingers.

          “Slowly,” Rachel tells Jax. She nods in understanding. She’s been in the infirmary far too many times to not know the protocols. It doesn’t take too many bites to sate her either. She sets the cup on the rolling table and sighs in relief.

          “Dr. Beckett’s on his way,” Rachel says then with a nod to Ronon then leaves, giving them privacy.

          Jax pats O’Neill’s chest and smiles. “Still using the same cologne, I smell.”

          “Why mess with perfection.”

          “I thought…” her gaze drops from his. “I could have sworn I heard my dad’s voice.”

          O’Neill pats her hand. “I’m sorry, honey. Hope it didn’t hurt you... being, well, me.”

          “You? Never. Dad would've loved you, too,” She smiles at him with so much love, Ronon’s a little jealous. He’s never seen Jax look at anyone like this.

_Because this isn’t Jax!_ This is Angela. The _real_ Angela. No shield. No defenses. All walls down. She finally looks at Ronon and the smile she gives him cools all that jealousy. “Hi.”

          Ronon spurts a chuckle. “Hi.”

          She scans the room, taking in the medical equipment, her IV, and the wires. Her confused gaze bounces between the two men. “Umm?” Her brows wrinkle and embarrassment darkens her cheeks. “What’d I do this time?”

          Ronon sits on the bed edge opposite O’Neill. “You don’t remember?”

          Her gaze holds his. “No.” She swallows hard and takes a deep breath, turning to O’Neill. “Must have been a doozy to get you all riled up though, Jack.” She looks around again. “We _are_ still in Atlantis, right?”

          “Yes,” Ronon says.

          Jax smirks at O’Neill: “Dr. Jackson’s gonna be pissed. Or is he here too?”

          “He’s not on the need-to-know list.” O’Neill wags a finger at her. “So, he never will.” She gives a half grin and O’Neill immediately pulls her in so he can kiss her forehead again. “I’ve missed ya kiddo.”

          She cups his cheek with her left hand. “Me too.” Her smile falters as she pulls her hand back, checking the wounded knuckles. She inspects her right hand: the healing cut on her palm. “W…wha…”

          And stops; mouth gaping, eyes losing focus. She sucks in a harsh breath, deep and wracked with pain.

          Her body shudders.

          O’Neill grabs her up in his arms, hugging her close. “It’s okay, Ang. I’m here.”

          “Ohgod... nonono… Jack…Ohgod…ohmygod!” Hard, anguish-filled sobs shake her whole body. Her arms slap around the O’Neill, holding on for life, desperate for comfort as she buries her face against his chest. “He’s gone, isn’t he!”

          O’Neill sniffs; tears in his voice. “Yes.”

          “Why!” She cries. “Why take him! Lily…. the baby…” Her sobs mingle with her words; Ronon finds it hard to understand her. Not that he needs to. This is exactly what she needed all those weeks ago. Someone to be there for her. Someone to hold her up when she fell.

          O’Neill strokes her back, her hair. “I’m so sorry, Angel. So sorry.”

          “It’s not fair. Not fair! Please… please, it’s... not... my... fault... please don’t let it be my fault again.”

          O’Neill gently grips her shoulders and makes her face him. He brushes loose hair out of her red, tear-soaked face. Ronon’s felt this pain. He’d never wish it upon anyone. Having Jax... no _Angie_ suffer like this breaks his heart for her. “No!” O’Neill says, locking his gaze to hers. “Never your fault. Get that through that thick head of yours.” He pulls her close again, wrapping his arms around her tiny body. “Don’t ever blame yourself, Angel. Charlie’s a hero.”

          “I want him back, Jack,” she sobs. “Ohgod! I just want him back so bad.”

          Together they rock on the bed, holding onto each other. “I know, kiddo. Me too.”

          Ronon slips away from the bed; leaving them huddled together in their shared grief. They don’t notice his departure. He’s sure they won’t miss him either and that’s not a bad thing. That’s not what matters right now. All that matters is that Angie is back and she needs her father.

          Ronon will be there for her later… when she needs _him_.

          As he walks down the corridor with a heavy heart full of hurt for Ja… Angie, he stops and takes a breath.

          Beckett rounds the corner a moment later coming from the opposite direction. “The machines are going wild,” he says, motioning to his datapad. “I’m guessing our lass has decided to rejoin us then?”

          “Leave them be, doc.”

          “I need to check—”

          Ronon does his usual ‘intimidation-move’; he gets in Beckett’s personal space and glares down at him. “Not this minute.”

          Beckett chuckles. “Fine. Fine. It can wait a few moments.” Beckett pats Ronon’s arm. “By-the-by, you don’t scare me, son. Far from it. That look in your eyes… you’re just too happy to be scary. Sorry to disappoint you.”

          “Excuse me?”

          “It’s okay, son. We’re all happy she’s better. No reason to hide your feelings on the matter.” Beckett side-steps him and continues on toward the infirmary. “I’ll check on her in 30 minutes. The shock should wear down by then.” As if reading Ronon’s confusion in the air, Beckett turns back around and holds up the datapad: a tiny square of video of the room he just left is on the top right corner of the screen. “Ya think I wouldn’t be keeping an eye on our girl 24/7… or in Atlantis hours 28/6? I know what the lass means to you—”

          “I doubt that,” Ronon sighs.

          “No matter. I’m not about to let her or you down. She’s always been in the best care… even if she didn’t know it.” Beckett watches Ronon then adds: “Now that she’s back, she’ll be fine. No need to worry anymore, son. Enjoy the moment.”

          He’s right. Ronon stops fighting his feelings and flashes a big grin. “Thanks, Doc.”

          Beckett nods, offering a sideways smirk as a ‘see you later’ then heads for the infirmary.

          Ronon shakes his head, leans against the corridor wall and lets out a long-held breath. His taut muscles scream with relief.

_She’s awake._

          Now he can get some sleep.

 


	32. Chapter 32

** ~ PRIZE ~ **

_Planet I-zoola._

Actually, one of several moons orbiting a large planet Sheppard says rivals Jupiter in the Milky-Way Galaxy. Not the place Ronon visited before; the Stargate’s in space near another moon eradicated of life by the Wraith eons ago. Given the freezing temperatures of I-zoola, Beckett believes the Wraith find it inhospitable and therefore don’t expect humans to thrive on it, so they leave it alone.

O’Neill made good on his promise to Dr. Weir—nine weeks ago—to “cut through the red tape” and the shipment of ice skates and winter clothing is on its way in the Daedalus two weeks outbound from Atlantis.

Knowledge of the vast mountain ranges and the ‘fresh powder’ (Sheppard’s words) spread like the seeds of Tea’hw in planting season on Sateda. Many of the expedition eagerly await their return trips to Earth to pick up something called ‘skis’ and ‘tubes’ for future visits.

Sateda’s moderate climate even in the higher altitudes—except for the ravishing rains once every six lunar cycles—made it a lasting figure in the trade lanes given their abundance of different grains and flora available all solar-cycle—year!—long, so snow was not part of Ronon’s life before becoming a Runner.

Ronon realized back when he and Jax got to know each other that since he no longer had Sateda to call home, he might as well learn ‘Earth terms and lingo’ because as far as she was concerned—and Sheppard for that matter—Ronon could always call Earth home if needed. But he’d need to fit in. At the same time, he taught Jax Pegasus Galaxy ‘lingo’ for the same reasons. 

And after that first step off the puddle jumper, Ronon’s sure she’d be willing to stay on I-Zoola for a long while. Her eyes opened wide and the sweet smile turned her into a happy child for a few beautiful moments.

Today’s trip is a special occasion for Ronon and a few select Lanteans. McKay stayed on Atlantis to “hold down the fort” so Dr. Weir could come along with Zelenka—he’s setting up the music system—and Dr. Heightmeyer—Gen. O’Neill cleared her to know Jax’s whole history to help with her recovery. Sheppard volunteered to pilot, making a big deal about doing everyone a favor on his day off; but given how he stares at Jax since the ‘pheromone incident’ the Colonel has other reasons to bring their prime guest to her winter wonderland.

Zelenka doesn’t enjoy going off-world but he couldn’t keep his excitement from spilling over into his natural language once asked to come along and help. Even as he puts the finishing touches on the speakers—all the while grumbling at Sheppard to get out of the way—there’s a smile of anticipation frozen on his face.

Dr. Weir and Dr. Heightmeyer collected any folding chairs available in The City—ending up with a surprising array in hues and styles—and set enough of them in the snow a few feet from the bank of the enormous frozen lake. As they wait for Zelenka to finish, the two women pour mugs of hot chocolate and hand them out. Dr. Weir gives him a mug and winks at him, “You’re in for a treat, Ronon.” Her smile’s so bright he no longer wonders why Sheppard stares at her the way he does. He’s never seen the leader this relaxed in the time he’s known her.

“Ready!” Zelenka yells and drops into his chair.

The ladies take their seats: Dr. Weir slips between Ronon and Sheppard; Dr. Heightmeyer sits on the other side of Zelenka. Ronon grins; catching the two very different people holding hands between the chairs; so many matches being made in The City. Would they ever have met if not for the expedition?

“That’s my cue,” she says, patting his knee and getting up from her seat on Ronon’s other side. Though ‘Jax’ still remains, especially in public (and he’s used to calling her by that name), new aspects of Angie break through all the time; each one warms his heart. Especially her smiles.

She spent a lot of time recovering physically; doing exactly as Beckett said every day. Talking with Heightmeyer as required. She had one thing on her mind once she found out there was an actual reason for Jack to have brought her ice skates from Earth.

She really wanted to dance in them.

She’s wearing the same second-skin black outfit with the colorful feather-like skirt as that time he, Dr. Weir, and Sheppard caught her dancing in the far away gym. Long hair piled onto her head, some curling strands find freedom, but still leaving her neck and shoulders bare. _How can she not be freezing?_ Even he’s wearing a coat.

As if reading his thoughts (again?), she smiles and says: “That’s what warming-up is for.” She took to the ice earlier—working while Zelenka did— ‘warming-up’ consisted of slow rounds pushing a wide mop over the lake to clear any leaves or stones as well as finding possible cracks that could trip her up. “It’s been a while,” she says aloud. “Hope I don’t fall on my butt.”

Everyone chuckles but Ronon. She’s fully recovered physically from her time in the infirmary according to Beckett, though she still has “a lot of _work_ to do with Dr. Heightmeyer”—Jax rolled her eyes when she told him that part. And she didn’t lose any muscle as feared but Ronon’s still tense. He doesn’t want her hurt again.

After using the mop and some water to smooth the frosty surface as much as possible, she skimmed over the lake, making long circular treks around a section of the ice, putting one foot before the other, twisting and going backward. Though she glided, it wasn’t as eye-catching as when he watched her in the gym.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spies Sheppard looking her up and down with obvious admiration and carnal interest. How the man can be affected by two different women in two completely different ways is a mystery to Ronon. But he’s not going to let his guard down around his boss, that’s for certain. He made a promise to Jack. If maiming is required… Ronon’s duty bound to make it happen.

“Go, Angie!” Dr. Weir yells, clapping wildly and Dr. Heightmeyer joins in. Sheppard sticks two fingers in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle. Angie—as this group alone calls her—smiles broadly and waves as she nears the center of the ‘rink’. She stops and takes a pose… waiting.

 

[Jax Skates](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sEn4uvejXpPySO6nXYIkutLYPey4pVmd/view?usp=sharing)

 Zelenka holds up a small device and presses a button. Moments later, the music starts. It’s similar to what she danced to before— _Ladyhawk_ —and listened to while washing his hair; when Ronon’s memories flooded him with long-dead emotions he wasn’t ready to handle. Now he can enjoy it with her. Angie’s made changes in him as well.

The tempo starts soft and she dances with her hands and arms as well as her feet, making use of the big lake: languid strides and poses she holds while still in motion. Leaning forward, stretching her left leg behind her…

          He watched her do this move in the gym, gliding her arms through the air as though swimming, her body almost horizontal if not for her strong right leg keeping all her weight and balance as that single blade skims over the frozen surface.

          Now she floats…

She glides…

She _flies_ through the air making his breath catch.

Each twist and turn so fluid she could be a water sprite bursting through the ice, suddenly alive.

Spins change that filmy skirt into flashes of sunset battling the darkness.

In an astonishing motion, Angie straightens at the waist, but doesn’t drop her left leg, instead she bends it at the knee, bringing it up higher, catching the blade in her hand and pulling the boot toward her head, all the while, keeping balance on that single skate going around and around.

Applause and whistles break through the music, but Ronon’s having difficulty breathing and worries the noise will cause her to falter.

The tempo rises, faster, heavier… harder. Not a misstep made. She keeps pace no matter the swift changes. She knows this music… it flows through her as if she’s made of it.

In time with the music’s first strong upbeat (her word) she leaps through the air on invisible wings, kicking both legs out in the ‘split’ she was concerned about. No problem he could see until she lands on one foot, the other comes down too quickly not keeping with the flow; recovery is just as fast and Ronon’s sure no one else caught the glitch.

She shakes her head just a bit but the grin on her face never drops as she flies around the lake.

The next leap involves her ‘signature triple’ she mentioned once without further explanation—flowing backward into a giant leap from the ground and into an incredible spin high in the air, around and around, so many times and so fast he can’t count! Three would be his guess though. Ronon shakes his head as his stomach flip-flops watching her.

_A treat, indeed!_

Gasps from the others break through the music. And he’s getting light-headed from holding his breath so much.

She lands on her left leg, keeping the right one extended, again skating backward.

Two quick twists in the air follow, not as high as the first but just as impressive. No misstep on these landings either. Looks like the split landing was her only glitch, thank the Ancestors.

Angie’s still not done… seems she’s been going for hours, yet the same music is playing… and she told him the ‘routine’ is less than three minutes. “Totally not up to a four-minute gig,” she said on the flight over.

The move that nearly drives him mad has her practically diving head-first to the ground, one leg kicking upward, straight as an arrow, then as if she’s yanked up by a string, she’s upright again only to repeat the dive… three times she does this move all the while one leg remains anchored to the ice, and her head comes so close to it and the ice below. It’s truly awe-inspiring and makes no sense to Ronon that her body can perform such an action. Spinning out of it, at last, she pulls her arms in tight and keeps spinning. Spinning. Spinning. The music getting faster as she does; her arms travel up over her head then out. Her whole body stopping suddenly in time with the song.

Ronon’s in such awe, he can’t catch a full breath.

He’s known women who can hunt, fight… never in his life has he known one woman capable of this sport. That’s what Sheppard called it. The skill, the determination, and power needed to perform these feats.

Ronon’s rarely impressed by others.

Angie impresses him all the time. Now more than ever.

The song races towards an end as does Angie with a series of twists, turns, and leaps. Gliding with the music, she goes down on one knee, sliding toward the center of the ice, one last wide half turn on one foot and her knee, slowing into a pose on the music’s final note.

Ronon’s up an instant before the others and they join him in clapping and whistling.

“Beautiful!”

“Amazing!”

“That was so great!”

They all yell to her but Ronon can’t swallow the lump in his throat and comment.

Angie takes several bows before skating to the edge right in front of Ronon. Her face aglow, damp with sweat, eyes wild with happiness; she’s never been more beautiful. Not a hint of Jax anywhere. “So?” she asks, as though only _his_ opinion matters.

Ronon doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he picks her up and wraps his arms around her, crushing her to him. She giggles—she does that a lot lately—wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him back.

Sheppard clears his throat so they look over; the others are eager to get their hugs in too. Ronon releases Angie and the others attack her with enthusiasm. Sheppard takes too long letting her go. Ronon gives him a warning glare, but Sheppard smirks and shakes his head.

“That was wonderful,” Dr. Weir says.

“Yes. So beautiful,” Zelenka adds. “You have not lost touch.”

“Thank you,” Angie says. “It felt amazing!” She turns to Dr. Weir, “Thank you so much. I’m so touched you did this for me.”

Dr. Weir smiles as she gently rubs Angie’s shoulder. “Everyone deserves a bit of happiness… you just shared some of yours with us… so _thank you._ ”

Angie takes in the surroundings. “This is so amazing. How did you find—” her eyes pop wide, focusing past Dr. Weir to the trees beyond.

Ronon’s hand goes to his blaster hilt. He doesn’t pull his weapon automatically anymore, but he’s always ready. He carefully slides his gaze, targeting whatever spooked Angie.

One. Two… three faces in the trees. Small faces… children. Again, they poke their heads out then duck back when the realized they have been seen.

Um… Dr. Weir.” Angie points toward the tree line. “We are not alone.”

Everyone else turns.

Well-hidden, blended into the nature around them: men, women, and children stare at the intruders not with fear but awe, as though they haven’t seen visitors to the planet… ever. Cautious but not afraid their heads pop up and drop back down—as quick as the tiny furry E-cim rodents children chased on Sateda—trying to get a look at the new people.

Dr. Weir leans over to whisper at Sheppard. “Thought you said this planet was uninhabited.”

Sheppard shrugs; catches Ronon’s gaze. “Thought it was.” Ronon nods in agreement.

Of everyone, it’s Angie who raises a hand and waves. “Hi!” She smiles, careful not to show teeth; Ronon taught her that. Teeth—even in a smile—can be construed as a threat.

“Hello,” Dr. Weir waves next, giving off her friendliest grin. “We don’t mean you any harm.”

Ronon keeps his hand on his gun, just in case, as a man and a woman come out of the trees, slowly, cautiously, possibly the leaders. They wear animal fur clothing, which makes sense in this climate. But don’t appear to carry weapons; which doesn’t make sense in this galaxy.

The woman steps forth, in front of the man. She ignores Ronon and Sheppard and comes right up to Angie, who is taller because of the skates and ice. The woman cocks her head as she looks directly into Angie’s eyes. She then touches a hand to her own ear. “Anuk,” she says slowly then points at Angie who looks wide-eyed at everyone else.

Dr. Weir touches Angela’s shoulder. “I think she means the music.”

Zelenka presses the button again and the music starts from the beginning. The woman and man gasp, clutching hands to their hearts repeating the same word, “Anuk,” with joyful expressions.

Angie points to the sound system. “Music. _Ladyhawk_ ,” she says.

Sheppard backhands Ronon on the arm. “ _I knew_ I knew that music!”

“What is _Ladyhawk_?” Ronon asks.

“Oh… it’s a movie from—”

“Any good?”

Sheppard shrugs, making a face. “Anything with Michelle Pfeiffer…”

The woman turns back to Angie and sweeps an arm toward the ice. “Motum?”

Ronon recognizes the word. “They think you fly,” he tells Angie.

Sheppard and Dr. Weir chuckle quietly. “I think they liked it too,” Dr. Weir says. “Got some more in you?”

Angie grins like Ronon’s never seen and laughs lightly. “I think so.” She looks to Zelenka. “Track 3?” He nods in return and readies the song. Angie smiles at the woman and motions to one of the chairs. “Sit.”

The woman doesn’t understand so Dr. Weir demonstrates. But instead of taking a chair, the man and woman sit on the snow. The team members retake their seats behind the new audience members and before they know it: the rest of the people hiding in the trees come out to join them, at least thirty of them. Some stand, some sit with the man and woman, but all are quiet and waiting.

 

[Jax Skates Again](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Y2dcMU5C8h4mjalBXbHM6kJWnraXwzCv/view?usp=sharing)

The music begins again… a new song for a new dance it seems.

And to everyone’s delight…

She flies.

  **~ § ~**

“Wow,” she sighs as Ronon helps take off her second skate. “I have never bridged negotiations before. Kinda cool!” They’re in the puddle jumper, both her legs draped over his; she’s snug in her sweat outfit over the top of the skating one and sipping hot chocolate. Her sweat-damp hair now pulled back into a sloppy ponytail; she looks the same age as the children outside in the snow.

Dr. Weir and Sheppard are roughing through stilted conversations with the local population. Seems this moon isn’t as desolate as it first seemed. In fact, from what Dr. Weir found out, they have quite the fishery and many other trade-worthy items _inside_ the mountains. And so far, all they want is more music and more skating. Quite possibly to learn how to skate too. Dr. Weir’s incredibly excited about their new-found friends.

Dr. Heightmeyer’s helping Zelenka dismantle the sound system and Ronon will help Sheppard bring in the heavy speakers when they finish.

First and foremost, he’s warming up someone’s feet. He starts rubbing the middle bottom of her right foot and she moans. “You’ve been holding out on me, Dex.”

Ronon smirks. “Have to keep some of my own secrets.”

She closes her eyes and relaxes against the bench cushion. “I forgot how painful skates can be once you take them off. I mean, mine are really broken in, but it’s been so long since I’ve worn them… too long. I’ve missed it more than I realized.

“The competition?”

“Naw… that was never my priority. Though I was good, don’t get me wrong. I would have loved grabbing that Gold Medal… who wouldn’t? But it’s the rush that got me. Ever since I was a kid. Ever since my dad got me onto the ice that first time… I just wanted to move. I watched the older girls. I wanted to be them. Then I wanted to be faster than them. Better.” She smiles. “The speed, man. I love the speed. The rush of the air as I push through it.”

“You and Sheppard… you’re more alike than you know.”

She smirks at that, gives a little huff of a laugh then pushes her foot hard against his hands, making his fingers dig in deeper. Her eyelids droop, and she moans again. “Holy cow! Where’d you learn this amazing art?”

Ronon picks up her left foot. “Self-taught. Got me out of many fights with Nally.”

“Oohhh. Ahhh, right there! That’s the spot,” she giggles. “I’m sure it did.”

Ronon raises a brow, considering her for a long moment. “Why didn’t you hold me to it?”

Her eyes open. “To what?”

“Our deal. I never did keep my end of the bargain and tell you about her.”

“You loved her. It’s in your eyes every time you say her name. That look tells me everything.”

Ronon releases her foot and she groans, annoyed. He pats her knee. “I think… I… love… you. The same.”

She sits up, dropping her feet to the jumper floor, scoots over on the bench and picks up his left hand, lacing the fingers of her right between his. Palm to palm, they sit together. “I know.”

“You know what?”

A half smile quirks her upper lip and her nose wrinkles in an adorable child-like way. She pats the back of his hand still in the grip of her other one. She tilts her head back so her eyes lock with his; barely visible tears shimmer in the corners of her eyes. “I know a brother when I see one.” She leans her head against his shoulder and sighs. “I love you, too.”

He rests his chin on top of her head, feeling happier than he has in years. He’ll never forget Nally and Angela will never forget Charlie, but they can be there for each other. After a long silence, Ronon taps her thigh. “So… no sex.”

“Ohgawd no!” She jumps up and away, flashing a disturbing look at him. “That’d be… We’re _family_ for godsakes. That’d be—”

“Wrong.”

“So wrong!”

They laugh and Ronon gets up, wraps his arms around her, burying her in a hug. “But with other people—”

She pulls back and slaps lightly against his chest. “Oh, there better be other people.” She gets a gleam in her eyes that makes Ronon roll his. “In fact, there’s this one guy I want you to set me up with…” Ronon turns and heads out of the jumper. “Ronon!”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Get back here you… Tarzan!”

“What was that Cheetah?” he tosses over his shoulder.

She does something he never saw coming, but in hindsight, should have. Even barefoot in snow, this woman can’t be contained. He barely has the word out before she jumps on his back, wrapping her long legs around his waist, one arm around his neck and one hand fiercely gripping his earlobe. “I,” hard tug. “Am not,” hard tug. “A monkey!” Extremely hard tug.

Ronon growls as he flips her off his back and into a pile of snow. She retaliates with a backward roll, bringing her legs up and kicking him in the chest. They flail at each other, punch and kick, flip each other over, grunting and growling the entire time until Sheppard’s able to pull _her_ off, from behind.

Big mistake.

Later, in her room, they’re watching the last episode of the first season of _MacGyver_ when Ronon nudges her bruised shoulder. “I really don’t think a setup is a good idea right now.”

She smacks her lips and clicks her tongue. “It’s not like I killed the man,” she says with a bit of a whine.

“No,” Ronon chuckles deep in his chest. “You just maimed him a little.”

“It was just a… little kick… I didn’t mean for it to… connect sooo… _hard_.”

“You kicked him in the _wrong place_... not nice. Then you gave him a black eye... less painful, but still not nice.”

She shrugs. “Reflexes. What can you do?” After a moment, she says. “No! What can _I_ do? You know, to make it up to him?”

Ronon shakes his head. “I don’t know. Sheppard looked really mad. You’ll have to be creative.”

“Creative is my middle name.” Ronon laughs and she tilts her head back to look up at him, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I wonder where Dr. McKay put that Ancient device,” she smiles wickedly.

Ronon bangs his head against the wall, shaking it back and forth. “Oh, nononononono.”

She laughs, a hearty rumble coming from deep inside.

And she smiles, her eyes glistening with mischief and joy.

Ronon watches her; his heart full of love for this woman.

His sister, his family.

_Home._

END

 


End file.
